


Insanity is My Forte

by LunagaleMaster



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: 1st person POV experiment, Character is done with this crap, Fatal Disease, Hearing Voices, I Don't Even Know, I don't know why I'm adding so many tags..., Insanity, Looking at you Vali, Most people are sucky but hey that's life, Multiple Personalities, Not all AP students are nerds, Try to find the kind ones or the ones that could be awesome if they stopped being mean, blue and purple cat named insanity that loves dragons, if you're not a psychopath that is, insanity can be fun, no phantom planet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4832921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunagaleMaster/pseuds/LunagaleMaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanity is relative. Scratch that, life is relative for it's based on perspective. For a girl who is actively dying, has a voice in her head, and has PTSD about shadows of all things, Hannah Wahnsinn's perspective is surprisingly positive... Until she goes to Amity Park that is. While Danny Phantom might protect his town from ghosts, he can't protect it from its own mentality... that might be an... issue when it comes to Amity Park's newest resident. </p>
<p>No OC pairings.</p>
<p>(There's a blue and purple cat named Insanity. Have fun with that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Road Trip

Amity Park, “A Nice Place to Live”, “Most Haunted Place in America”, “Home of the Crazy Ghost Hunters! Beware!”, and…

My new home.

I knew I should have seen it coming. I mean, my dad had been ranting about his job for months now. How the company he worked for was trying to make his life a living hell for not trying to take a management position, mostly, but, of course, I was too wrapped up in my own lives and own friends to notice.

What a wonderful daughter I am, right? So perceptive.

Oh, sarcasm. My only friend left with me after the tragedy that is my life…God, did that sound narcissistic. I’m moving to Illinois, not having to live on the streets with a cup and a banjo holding a sign saying “Will play for food.” Sometimes I wonder about those theatre classes I’ve taken.

I’m off topic. Moving. To Amity Park. Two months after my sophomore year has already started. If that didn’t sound like a recipe for fun and giggles, I don’t know what is.

Seriously though, what the heck? Why couldn’t we have waited to move until after I finished my first semester of my sophomore year? If Axiom Labs valued my dad so much, why couldn’t they let him come later? But noooooo, they wanted him ASAP or the position would be gone.

Selfish pricks.

So that is why we are driving cross country in the family’s Ford truck from Texas to Illinois. We’re almost there too. The time passes quite quickly when Jim Dale reads all the _Harry Potter_ books on audio books. We finished book one about an hour ago, I think.  

Right now, I’m sitting in the back of the family car, listening to my playlist of my favorite songs that’s varies from “Demons” by Imagine Dragons to “Let it Go” from Frozen. “Clarity” rings through my ears, blocking out the world. A 3DS is also in my hands as I absentmindedly play as Peach in Super Smash Bros.

Yeah, I’m acting like a brooding teenager (plus the DS, but I’m incomplete without the thing), but I have a reason. My dad promised me that we would finally stop moving when I entered high school. Daddy never lies to me, and we’ve made a promise to never lie to each other.

He lived up to his promise too. Usually we move every single year since kindergarten, going from company to lab to university to science empoison to yadda yadda building., and so on and so forth. My dad is one of the best scientists in his field, who has fancy sounding name that makes us both laugh. His job involves making machines that work on people on a molecular level. Daddy not only has a doctorate in computer and mechanical engineering, but he also has a master’s degree in both molecular biology and medicine.

Meaning, my dad is a freaking _genius_ with way too much time on his hands. As a result, we have to move because people want my dad _everywhere_ , yet none of them can treat him like a person, only a machine.

Unlike most people who wanted to do well in their job just to get a promotion and be the head boss, my dad just wants to enjoy his job. No management. No fancy sounding title that gives millions. Just his science. Unfortunately, he’s a good leader, and the companies actually want him to be manager. For three of the eight or so companies Daddy has worked in, they made his life a living _hell_ once they found out he didn’t want the leading position.

However, the last company my dad worked in actually treated him well. Yeah, they wanted him to lead a little bit, but he got a good salary, a nice workplace, and group of people who respect him without wanting to jump him for not wanting to be greater than he was at the moment.

Nice environment, right? Thus, my dad was ticked when the new CEO changed the entire system to one of bullies....excuse me, _management path potential_. With that, my dad hated his job once more, but was stuck because he told me we wouldn’t move.

But when some private lab promised him double his salary as a simple researcher, how could he refuse?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad my dad is out of there. He was absolutely miserable for the past month, ranting about stupid management, and why can’t they just leave him alone for once, Gosh damn it?! (Hey, I’m almost sixteen. My dad decided that I’m of age that cursing is allowed in the household… from his mouth at least. “Do as I say, not as I do,” I suppose.) He promised that we wouldn’t move unless they doubled his salary, and since the nearest lab he could work at was nearly 100 miles away, he was stuck.

I told him we could move, multiple times in fact. I didn’t want my dad to hate his life when he wasn’t at home. Daddy wouldn’t have it though. A promise was a promise, and he intended to keep it… unless someone doubled his already way too large paycheck.

Which, someone did. In Illinois of all places! Which, by the way, this new location pretty much sucks for a southerner like me. C'est la vie, I suppose.

With a sigh, I turn off Smash Bros. after defeating the level 9 Meta Knight, close the 3DS, and start switching out my games. Like a machine, I get my case of way-too-many-DS-games-a-normal-person-should-have, lazily spread my eyes over my collection, and trail my finger over the colorful pictures on the cartridges.

I don’t really want to play anything. I’ve been almost constantly playing my DS on the road trip (Daddy isn’t much of a talker over road trips), and I was all gamed out for once in my life.  I sigh, close my eyes, and lay back in my seat.

“You okay, Pookie-chu?” My dad asks worriedly, his eyes still on the road. I smile at the nickname. My obsession of all things Pokémon made him start combining my previous nickname “Pookie-bear” and the ever famous “Pikachu” that left me both feeling amused and loved. Before my mom died when I was ten, she used to call me Pookie-bear after Garfield the cat’s little brown bear. I don’t know why she did that, but I didn’t particularly care either way. Plus if it made her happy to call me those little nicknames, who was I to stop her?

I open my eyes and tilt my head towards him, smile still on my face. “Yeah, Daddy. Just tired of gaming. Shock I know.” He laughs.

“Well, you’re in luck. Your boredom won’t last long. We’re less than an hour out.” I blink at him, a small sense of dread filling me. Insanity keeps trying to convince me that this is all a dream, I’ll just wake up back home, safe in our old cozy house in Texas where all my friends await me to celebrate my birthday in a couple of weeks. Well, Insanity also says that one day aliens will come take me away from my home and declare me their new leader, and even with many jumps in logic that makes no sense.

Still a person can dream.

**Dreams can be reality, Hannah.**

I mentally growl. _Stop it. This is real life. Not a dream._

**Comatose.**

I clench my eyes together, concentrating on calming Insanity. _Ini, if I was in a coma then weirder shit would happen than this, and I wouldn’t even acknowledge that the possibility of being comatose would exist, lest I wake up._

**Then our life could be in a coma.But then it wouldn’t matter because our reality is comatose anyway. So, better be safe than sorry... Wait we could be in an _extremely_ realistic dream!**

I sigh. _I would have to be safe either way! I’m not stupid enough to mess with a hyper realistic dream…again.._

**It would be stupid to die in a dream. If you do die, we wake up back to stupid, unfun reality. What’s the point in that? I construct those dreams for you to have fun in for once, you stick in the mud!**

Insanity is silent after that. I tap on my leg, eyes stilled clenched as tried to calm myself and _not_ to mentally slap Ini. I’m not actually insane or schizophrenic. Not really. Even if this mind talking thing is a form of schizophrenia (though it might be multiple personality disorder), this whatever-this-is is not the type that’s telling me to do stuff life jump of cliffs or something. In fact, Ini helps me see different perspectives on people and places while retaining my creativity. The logical part of my mind balances my creativity, while Insanity lets me be _extremely_ open-minded and mature for my age. I think about things that normal fifteen year olds don’t think about, the impossibility of world peace, uses of video games to interconnect the world, a full length three part book series that is darker than Edgar Allen Poe and so on and so forth. I’m grateful for this part of me, no matter if it is a little weird.

**I wonder if we’ll see some ghosts in the town. Will we be kidnapped and have to be saved by the elusive Phantom?**

But as the name implies, Insanity exists to drive me “nutter butter” as my mom would have said.

I huff in frustration. _I told you. There are no ghosts! It’s media I tell you! Media!_

In the back of my mind, I feel Insanity cross its metaphorical arms in a huff. (Insanity has its own room filled with bright rainbow colors with dark outlining. I picture my insanity as a blue and purple cat with green-blue eyes for some reason). **Then how do you explain the little Pariah the Dark incident or the literal _ghost invasion_? The place was surrounded by those creatures, and the town almost got sucked into the Ghost Zone with Pariah.**

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Once I found out we were moving, I took it upon myself to look up everything about the town that I could. To my surprise, I found it a hotspot for _ghost_ activity of all things. Stories of small insanities and impossibilities that Ini loves. In fact, I haven’t heard anything, but stories of these strange ghost-not ghosts from Insanity since I heard of Amity Park. The stories I found _looked_ real, but with the Internet, Photoshop, and humanity’s need for attention, I really don’t think that ghosts of all things would actually be a thing.

No, it’s all media. Plain media.

I bite my lip and release the tension with a sigh. _Look Ini, as much as I know you want it to be true, ghosts aren’t real. It’s only something made by media in order to get attention. Nothing more, nothing less. Now please, stop bombarding me with images of Phantom!_

Insanity was quiet more a moment before speaking again. **He looks about our age.**

_Huh?_

**Danny Phantom? The ghost boy? Yeah, he looks anywhere from 14 to 16. I just wonder how he died, and why he protects the town, you know? Why would someone so young have an obsession to protect so great that it followed them to the afterlife? What happened to them when they were alive? It’s so… interesting the ideas that spark from one ghost’s afterlife. The papers paint him from anything to a hero to a villain, yet he never once harmed anyone. It’s fascinating to think about, and he’s just one ghost! Excuse me if I was curious!**

With that, she slammed the metaphorical door between us. (Insanity is me, so I guess the persona is a she?). I bite my lip harder. I must have hurt that part of myself. For all that Insanity is, she accepts me and just wants me to grow greater by understanding and accepting anything and everything, but we sometimes have falling outs. For as knowledgeable as she is, Ini acts like a child most of the time. She runs around her metaphorical room and can’t comprehend why people act evil or hurt others. Insanity is my innocence and purity.

I’ve always said I had the heart of a three year old, and that heart is Ini.

I groan and lay farther back in my seat. Ini only wants me to accept the _possibility_ of ghosts. I guess, it shouldn’t be too much to have an open mind… right? I let another sigh of frustration, and mentally slide a note under her ‘door’ saying “You win, I’ll look out for all the ghosts, especially this Phantom that you keep obsessing over...Love, our logic, Hannah.” The door between us stays shut, but considering the pressure in my head that I didn’t even know was there is now gone, I guess Ini is okay.

I smile slightly. As much as she drives me insane, I love this part of me.

“So what did Ini have to say?” I blink and look back up to my dad. With dealing with Insanity, I completely forgot about our previous conversation. I blush and laugh slightly.

“Well, first she was talking about dreams, but then she got annoyed when I told her I didn’t believe in ghosts. But we’re okay now.” He chuckles and turns on the wipers when the rain starts coming down harder than a slight sprinkle. Yes, my dad knows about Ini. Why wouldn’t I tell him? I thought I was insane when I heard her in my head one day, so the next logical thing to do is tell my dad, right?

Here’s the kicker, my dad has the voice in his head too. He didn’t call his persona Insanity; he called it George. (I named her before I knew the heck she was. The name kind of stuck.) My dad’s name is Fredrick, Fred for short, so being _Harry Potter_ fan plus the fact my mom was fascinated by the name George, (I love you and squeeze you and call you George), why not name it that?

He’s been the one to help deal with this persona. Dad says that he’s had his for years, but didn’t exactly acknowledge it until it told him to marry my mom. Since then, he’s been dubbed George. It’s been weird with Ini, sure, but it’s not like she’s there all the time. Most of the time my head is my own with no other voices trying to influence me, so it’s not like she _really_ disturbs my life.

As I said before, I love Ini. Even if she is a bit crazy.

“George drives me crazy too but...” My dad tilted his head towards me a smirk on his face. One beat passed. I gave a small laugh.

“We gotta love them.” I finish. He smiles and concentrates on the road, leaving me to my musings. I look out the window, watching the rain fall and the Illinois land blur past us. “Hey, Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“When will the movers get to Amity?” I ask out of curiosity.

“Well, they told me that they’ll get here tonight at about ten. I thought we would get some time to explore the town but.. ”He gestured with one hands towards the window, and the increasing rain.

Great. It’s only five right now. “We could go visit Axiom Labs.” I offer.

“No, no. I’m getting the tour on Monday.” Today is Friday, September 26th maybe? Maybe the 24th. I’m horrible with dates.

“Then maybe we can just drive around for a bit. See the sites.” **See the ghosts!**

He smiles. “That sounds nice.”

We get into a comfortable silence after that. Our relationship has been a bit strained for the last couple weeks, and I miss my dad. We’ve never had that big of fights as far as I could remember, and no matter what, my dad is my best friend. He understands me better than any one of my friends back at our old home. We joke around, and poke fun at each other, but most of all, he’ll always be there with me. When I move, he moves. I won’t lose him in a never to be used contact in my phone until I don’t remember the name to the face. It’s a silly reason, one that I could fix with my other friends if I tried, but..

There’s another reason why I keep most people away.

I look back up to my dad. “Should I take my inhaler now, or wait for the machine when we get to Amity?”

His brows furrows and a frown goes to his face. “Are you okay? Feeling any pain?”

I give a small smile. “Kind of, but it’s nothing I’m not used to. I just want to be able to help unpack the car without worrying.” He nods. Daddy’s probably thinking 10 million miles per hour based on the look on his face. He nods again.

“Take a spritz now, and at nine, you’ll use the machine. That sound good?” He smiles once more, though I could see the pain in his smile. I try to smile back.

“Yeah, thanks Daddy.”

“No problem, Sweetie.”

I close up the forgotten game pouch on my lap, and place it and my DS in my purse. After rummaging through my purse for a second, I found my inhaler.

I hate the damn thing. Even now when I’m holding it, the blue container mocks me. It thinks I’m weak for not being able to live without it. I give it a quick glare before giving a frustrated huff.

The bottom of the inhaler opens with a small pop. I go through my usual routine. Shake the inhaler. Breathe all the way out. Place the inhaler in my mouth. Press the top and feel the cold disgusting medicine. Breathe in at the same time. Wait 60 seconds. Breathe out.

Even with one spritz, I can feel the pain receding my chest. I give a small sigh of relief but still give a glare to the little inhaler before putting it back. After making sure everything was in its proper place, I lay back in my seat, closing my eyes and trying to empty my mind.

I’m actively dying. That’s what the whole inhaler thing is about. When I was born I had weak lungs. At first, the doctors though it was asthma, though how they got clamping lung passages versus what actually is wrong with me, we’ll never know.

The real thing is much scarier. My lungs are actively deteriorating. They are slowly crumbling in on themselves every day. The inhaler coats my lungs with a liquid that is supposed to help prevent the crumpling while my machine makes my lungs remember how to work while giving the medicine that coats my lungs with stuff.

Either way, I’m not supposed to be able to live longer than in my twenties. The doctors wanted me to stay in their little labs while they try to fund a cure to an incurable disease. (Damn you cancer), but my parents and I (my parents not wanting me to stay completely surprised me at the time) refused. After much debate and deliberation, they finally comprised with the inhaler, a breathing machine, and a check up every other month. (I’ll we spending a weekend every other month flying to one of their labs to test me like a rat- excuse me- _check up_ on me.)

When I asked my parents _why_ they didn’t want me to have the major tests, they said that they wanted me to live my life, and it was ultimately my decision whether I have the exams, surgeries, and what not.

Keep in mind, I was nine at the time. Still mature for my age, but not by much. I think they both knew the exams would fail. I could tell, even as a little girl. I mostly think they knew because my mom was dying too.

My poor Daddy. He lost Mommy less than a year after he was told his only daughter, his only child, was going to die.  He’s a strong person, and I hate seeing him so depressed. I don’t want to hurt him with my death, but there really isn’t anything I can do. My disease is basically a cancer without the cancer cells. It destroys my own body with no way to stop it other than some not-so-cheap tricks that only slow down the inevitable conclusion. Arguably, any medicine does that, but for me, it’s a simple fact. If I didn’t live in the twenty first century, I would be dead, no ifs, ands, ors, or buts.

“Hey Hannah, Honey? We’re here.” I open my eyes and see the small town of Amity Park in front of me. It’s not a very big town. One could probably walk to entire scope of it in an afternoon, not like Austin, Dallas, or Houston. However, it looks nice, I think.

We drive by a sign that says “Amity Park A Nice Place to Live.”

I snort. Yeah, maybe. If the supposed ghost attacks won’t get me, my disease will first, or Ini’s lessons on creativity will drive me mad and send me to a looney bin. Who knows?

Like the times before, Amity Park is a fresh start. Let’s just hope it’s a good one this time.

 


	2. Fake it with a Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Principal thinks that minor wards will be effective against ghosts, Lancer gets curious about his new student, and Hannah falls on the floor.

“You must be Mr. Wahnsinn. It’s an honor to meet a distinguished individual such as yourself.” The suited lady sitting in her desk gives us a brilliant smile. I must have great willpower. It’s a fact because if I didn’t, I would have rolled my eyes so hard that it would have hurt.

It’s always the same. People always try to sweet talk my dad to make them look good or if something is wrong with the school. They believe that some simple smoozing will make it all better like a kiss on a child’s wound. We know better. Some people are as fake as shit when it comes to these things.

Believe me. If something is wrong with the school, the district administration would be given hell, no amount of butt-kissing or blackmail changing our minds.

We had come in a little early on Monday morning to get a tour of the school. My dad’s work didn’t start until eight, so he had plenty of time to walk with me to Casper High to talk confirm some of the more important issues involving my new life, mainly my condition and how it affected my school life. We did not expect, however, being ushered in to the tiny little office by a bald, plump man, (Mr. Lancer, if I recall the Principal saying) to be annoyingly buttered up.

Unfortunately, because I _wasn’t_ rolling my eyes at the woman in front of me, I simply broaden my smile, though I’m pretty sure it almost looks like a smirk.

My dad smiles as well, probably. A fake one, of course. Politely fake, mind you, but fake. “Thank you Principal Ishiyama, though I think Hannah would like that little fact to remain hidden. Wouldn’t want her to be treated differently because of who her father was, right Sweetie?” He looks at me. Even behind his glasses I can see his amusement at the situation.

I repress the urge to roll my eyes again.

 **Stop mentally rolling your eyes! It gives me a headache!** Ini pouts. I ignore her and answer my dad’s question with an equally fake smile.

“Of course!” I look back at the woman. “Academics should be based of _my_ work ethic, not my father’s.” I give the woman a look of confusion and try to look as innocent as possible. “Isn’t that how it should be?”

The woman shifts a bit in her chair, frowning at me. I can’t tell whether she’s guilty or just uncomfortable at the fact a student is asking these types of questions.

“Ms. Wahnsinn, I don’t what you’re trying to imply, but here at Casper High, we prioritize ourselves in making sure the students have the best possible environment for their learning experience. We do not, however, tolerate cheating either by influencing teachers or within the classroom itself.”  She starts smiling again. “I assure you. Your father’s position will have no impact on your treatment by our staff, whether positive or negative. If you see any staff treating you differently, feel free to contact me personally to get the issue resolved, okay?”

I blink at her slight frown on my face then look at my dad, seeing his reaction. He’s looking at the principal with a calculating expression, like he’s trying to find the double meaning behind her speech. The woman’s smile turned to a small frown at Daddy’s face.

Personally, I think she’s telling the truth, if only because she made big claims right in front my dad, and I’m pretty sure she’s smart enough to realize he’ll follow up on her little speech.

I smile back at her, a genuine one this time. “Thank you, Principal Ishiyama. That makes me feel better.” I pause then try to steer the conversation back on track. “What about my classes and condition? That’s the reason why we’re here so early today.”

The smile returns to her face. “Of course.”

So the three of us talk about my new life at Casper High. Well, the adults mostly talked with me nodding and smiling with the occasional comment. Unlike my last school, apparently homeroom is a big deal here. Before, I only had it the first day of school for two hours to get schedules and other important school-related documents. Now, I have it every Monday with Mr. Lancer who is apparently also my English II teacher.

We discussed how my condition would affect my schedule. Instead of a gym period, I will go to the nurse’s office and use my breathing machine and take it as a study hall/medical session. The entire staff had been informed of my condition and while they didn’t know what I looked like, they are aware of me.  Daddy had apparently given the principal permission to disclose this information to the staff. Unfortunately, he only told me this after he saw my anger at (as Ini would put it): “My lack of privacy and self-security from the forces of cruel reality.” In case of emergencies, all my teachers were to be given an emergency inhaler, which will hopefully be given to all of them by the end of the week.

All in all, the conversation was not as bad as I thought it would be.

Miss Snooty Suit is still a kiss-up though.

“And finally here’s your schedule.” She hands me a piece of paper and sure enough, it’s my schedule. “Is there anything else I can do you for two? Anything at all?” That blasted smile burns disgustingly sweet through my mind. I swear to God if this woman smiles like that one more time, I’m not responsible for my actions.

 **Now, now. No need to act irrationally. Just smile and nod for now then imagine her mouth superglued down to a frown later. We need to make a good impression after all.** Ini’s tail swishes as she smirks. It’s a strange expression on a cat, a smirk.

Inwardly, I laugh, the joy translating into my smile. The woman’s smoozing feels suddenly more tolerable. “Well, I would like to know where my homeroom is if you don’t mind.” She nods.

“Of course, of course. I will have you walk with Mr. Lancer to introduce yourself to your homeroom.”

“Wait what?”

The principal frowns once more. “Ms. Wahnsinn, with your condition, we recommend that as many people know about it as possible in order to assure your safety. While you don’t have to go into details of your status.” I nearly raise an eyebrow at her. I’m dying. That’s my ‘status.’ I keep my face confused though. “We highly recommend that at least your homeroom know to help you. It’s all precautions.”

And ways to keep law suits away.

Of course, I don’t say this that would be impolite. The woman is only doing her job after all.

This time my dad speaks up to raise his concerns. “Thank you Ms. Ishiyama, but how do you know that these students won’t abuse this knowledge?”

The principal nods as if expecting this question. “I can assure you, the safety our students is our first priority. If any student is caught handling your daughter’s inhaler or purposively trying to provoke her condition, they will be dealt with at the upmost level, no matter what their status in school is.”

Before I can ponder about the ‘status in school’ line, Ini speaks in my head once more.

**What about the ghosts? Don’t they hurt the students? Ask her about ghosts! Ask her about ghosts!**

_I’m not asking-_ I stop mid-thought, practically feeling Insanity’s pout winning me over. Inwardly I sigh.  _Fine, but I’m not asking about Phantom._

**…Fine.**

I mentally sigh once more before gaining a concerned expression, though may it be fake or influenced by Ini’s actual concern, the world may never know. “Principal Ishiyama, I have one more question.”

“Of course, dear. What is it?”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I’ve heard this town is haunted by ghosts with Casper High being a main target. Is this true. If it is, I’m not going to run away screaming, I just want to know so I can be prepared _when_ or _if_ they up, you know?” I’m rambling, and I know it, but how else would one talk about ghosts in a school, a school named _Casper_ of all things?

(Ini had been thoroughly amused when she found the haunted school was named Casper while I simply raised an eyebrow, wondering if the ghost attack named the school or if it was like that before they knew the town was haunted. I’ll have to ask a student later.)

I watch in slight concern as the woman stiffens, her smile vanishing, leaving only pursed lips and hardened eyes.

My dad looks concerned as well. “Ms. Ishiyama?”

Whatever stupor she had been in, breaks when my dad speaks. Her pursed lips vanish, leaving only a small smile, though even I can tell that she’s faking it. The hardened look in her eyes may have disappeared, but an ironically haunted expression replaced it.

“While I’m surprised that you know of our little pest problem,” Both Ini and I frown at that. “I can assure you that you are perfectly safe at Casper High. No one has been seriously injured due to a ghost attack so far, and I don’t plan on anyone getting injured anytime soon. Ever since the major invasions on the town, multiple protocols have been placed in order to ensure our students’ safety may that form of safety be in ghost drills or simple small ways to ward off the supernatural. I assure you Ms. Wahnsinn, ghosts will not be a major issue while at Casper High.”

That…is not a glowing endorsement, nor in any way shape or form make me or Ini feel better. In fact, _now_ I’m freaking out. Not only did the principal confirm that, yes, this school is in fact infested by ghosts on a regular basis to the point that they needed freaking drills like a fire drill or something, it also seems like the school didn’t even seem to proper classes or procedures to defend itself from the invasion.

Seriously? If all the news articles I read were true, then a “small way to ward off the supernatural” ain’t gonna do shit against a rampaging metal ghost with blasters that seemed to not give a damn if it hurt anyone or anything around it.

I take back my previous remark on the woman’s intelligence. She _is_ dumb enough to lie directly to our faces.

What she isn’t saying is that the school (and maybe the whole town) is relying completely on Danny Phantom and The Red Huntress on protecting itself from any ghost attacks. Come to think of it, why would they be able to come so quickly? Did they have a ghost hunter version of a Bat Signal or something?

Again, the world may never know.

Before either of us can speak up again, the door to the office opens, revealing a concerned Mr. Lancer.

“I hate to interrupt, but class is starting soon and-“

“Of course, of course!” The principal practically jumps out of her seat as she walks to the English teacher. To say she looked relieved would be like saying that I’m a little pale, biggest understatement of the century. She smiles stiffly at us. “Well, come along Ms. Wahnsinn, you don’t want to be late for your first day of class, do you?”

I eye her uneasily. Snotty Suit just dodged a bullet, and she knows it. The worst part about it is that I can’t even bring the issue up again because, she’s right, I do have to get to class. Unless Homeroom translated to Interrogation 101, I have to leave the woman be.

 **Sly little fox isn’t she?** Ini comments.

_Yes, yes she is._

I didn’t want to particularly want to go to class and introduce myself and my disease. I just kind of want to sit in the office with my dad. I look to my dad with a slightly pleading expression. To my despair, he smiles sadly at me before getting out of his chair. “Well, I guess I better get going too. It’s my first day as well, you know.”

I sigh and get up from the chair. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make it any better though.” I smile before hugging him.  I lower my voice, so that only he could hopefully hear me. “Just make sure they treat you right this time, okay or I’ll have to go kick their butts.”

He chuckles. “Of course.” He releases me and gives me a quick kiss on my forehead. “Love you ba bye Hannah.”

I give a quick peck on his cheek. “Love you ba bye, Daddy.”

With that he leaves the room, leaving me alone with teacher and principal.

I pick up my backpack (which has way too much stuff for the first day of school, but that’s another story) and swing it over my shoulder and pick up my lunch kit off the floor. Once I’m settled, I give Mr. Lancer a smile.

“Okay, I’m ready.” He stares at me for a moment (this man must not deal with strange people often) before answering.

“Alright. Follow me, Ms. Wainsin?” I blink at the usage of my last name.

“Wahnsinn actually. Like Obi _Won_ Kenobi and sin with a ‘z’. Wahn-zin.” He arches an eyebrow at me.

“Do you give this speech a lot?” I shrug.

“More often than not on the first day of school though most teachers just call me Hannah. But that’s okay, whatever you prefer to call me, I suppose.”  He seems satisfied with my answer because he turns away from me and starts walking out the door. I scurry behind him but not before giving the principal a smile.

“Have a good day, Principal Ishiyama.” The poor woman looks confused at my goodbye, not expecting kindness after arguing with her. Or maybe she students weren’t usually kind to her in general. Either way after a moment, she regains herself and smiles back at me.

“To you as well Ms. Wahnsinn. Enjoy your first day at Casper High.”

I laugh. “Hopefully.” As I turn away from her to follow Mr. Lancer, I see her smile broaden for a moment. The idea that I brightened her day makes me happy.

Just because she annoys me, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give common courtesies like simply kindness. Everyone deserves kind words, even smoozing annoying Snooty Suits.

I pad behind Mr. Lancer, allowing him to lead me around the alien school through the crowds of students who loitered the hallways. As we walk, I hear other kids suddenly start to whisper. Out of my peripheral vision, I see them sneak glances at me, some even pointing like I was some sort of attraction or unknown marvel.

Great. Small town must mean that _any_ new kid would be something to gawk at. Great. Just great.

I look straight ahead, ignoring them. My only reaction is to keep closer to the teacher. Through experience, I’ve found that ignoring the whispers will either make them stop or if they don’t stop, make a person eventually stop caring about he whispers in general.

“So, Mr. Lancer.”  I say, trying to ward off the stares. He hums in recognition, which I took as a sign to continue. “How bad are the ghost attacks? Please don’t sugar coat it. I need to know how much danger I’m in.”

Mr. Lancer gives me an odd look like he’s trying to figure me out or find some other meaning behind my words. He arches an eyebrow at me. Once again, I have great willpower for resisted the urge to give him the same look.

After a moment he responds, though not in the way I want him to, much to my irritation. “You’re different from most of my students.”

 _Now_ I arch an eyebrow at him. “Different good or different bad?”

He shrugs and looks ahead once more. “I haven’t decided yet. Most of my students don’t want to even recognize the possible threat that ghosts could pertain to them, yet that’s is exactly one of the first questions you ask. Never mind how you accept the existence of ghosts without an issue. Care to explain why?”

I shrug. “I’m facing death, but I kind of want to live to at least my sixteenth birthday. My imagination is wild, and I choose to accept that anything is possible. Life has less surprises and feels more tolerable that way.”

“Tolerable?”

“Well, yeah. Compared to my dreams, reality sucks.” I state bluntly, causing an amused smirk to appear on the teacher’s face. “But by accepting anything is possible like multiple sets of realities or even ghosts…” I trail off, letting my eyes wonder to cream colored walls. If he wasn’t going to answer my question, maybe the walls something else could occupy my attention.

“You _are_ an interesting child.” I shrug again and notice that part of the wall has a green colored stain. Maybe from a ghost fight or just some practical joke from a student. Either is equally as possible. “To answer your question,” I focus on him, forgetting the green spot for the moment. He sighs. “unfortunately, ghost attacks are quite common here at Casper. While students have been mostly safe, there have been…. Incidents.”

“Incidents.” I repeat. The worry that I shot down earlier is coming back up again. Ini surprisingly doesn’t seem worried. Instead, she appears to be waiting, listening at the edge of her seat…errr my mind. Whatever.

“Yes, there have been incidents of students being kidnapped by ghosts, property damage, things of the sort.” He pauses and turns slightly away from me, so that I can’t see his expression. “However, it seems to end up fine in the end.”

I want to say ‘because of Phantom and the Red Huntress, right?’ but trying to gain the upper hand or accuse him of not protecting his students would probably not sit well. I rather have Mr. Lancer as an ally than a teacher to hate.

Instead, I smile at him. “Thanks for telling me, Mr. Lancer. I’ll try to be careful.”

He pauses before looking at me, but instead of a calculating expression he has one of… I can’t tell. Dang, there goes my reading people streak.

After a moment, the strange expression leaves his face, a smile replacing it. “Thank you, Ms. Wahnsinn. Now I better get inside before there’s anarchy. You stay here, and I will call you when I introduce you, okay?” I blink and look around me then my cheeks flush at the realization. Whoops, I hadn’t even noticed we stopped. Note to self, pay attention to these things, especially in a haunted school.

I smile, embarrassed. “Okay.” With that, he goes into the classroom. I close my eyes and listen as Mr. Lancer tries to calm down the students. Even through the closed door, I can hear him trying to hush the rowdy kids (wait did he just say _Battle Royale_? Was he referencing the book or a battle royale in general?). 

More awesomeness. A loud home room. Oh, well. At least it’s only once a week.

**That’s the spirit! And speaking of spirit… Do you think we’ll see Phantom?**

_From what I read in the newspaper, there’s a higher chance of yes rather than no._

**AWESOME! A real live superhero!**

_One: the dude’s dead, he isn’t exactly a_ live _superhero. Two: He’s done things that make him a villain too. Remember the stealing and kidnapping incidents?_

I will not deny it. I take great satisfaction at the persona’s pout.

**You… are no fun.**

_It’s part of my job description._

**Your job description is stupid.**

I stifle my laughter, though a smirk manages to make it across my face. I continue leaning against the wall my backpack giving me a good six inches between the surface and by actual back. Closing my eyes, I listen to the sounds beyond the door. The loud voices have seemed to calm down a bit, albeit only slightly.

A loud ring suddenly echoes through the building, destroying my sense of calm. Dang loud bells.

Now that my calm is ruined, I can only stand irritably, waiting for the door to open in order to showcase myself in front of the classroom. As much as I don’t like the chick, the principal made a good point. The more people who know of my disease, the lower the risk of not being able to get help when I really need it.

Still didn’t mean I have to like it.

**When did he say he would come?**

_He didn’t. Only when he was ready._

**This is boring.**

_You saying it’s boring doesn’t make it less so. It only gives me a headache._

**Come on Han Han! Get him to let you in!**

_Ini, don’t call me Han Han._

**But-**

Suddenly, something slams in my shoulder knocking me off balance. I stumble for a second then trip and fall to the ground, landing on my right shoulder with a resounding thunk.

I look up blearily to see what the heck just knocked me down only to find a hand being offered to me.

“Sorry, I should have watched where I was going. Are you okay?” I blink again. My mind isn’t really cooperating with me at the moment. Slowly my eyes wander from the offered hand to the face of its owner.

I expect to see a jock or something. You know like the tank that ran over me? What I find is nothing of the sort.

The kid is scrawny, looking almost thin to the bone. Whether that be from the baggy t-shirt he’s wearing or something else, I don’t know. He had to be at most five and a half feet tall, maybe even smaller. As he holds out his hand, the kid looks concerned maybe to the point of panic that he might have seriously hurt me or something. His blue eyes are slightly widened, though his messy black bangs almost cover them as he leans slightly over me.

Defiantly not the tank that I thought that hit me.

I laugh a bit as I sit up, crossing my legs. “I’m okay. Just a bit sore.”

He looks at the shoulder that I fell on. “You’re sure? That was a pretty nasty fall.” I wave him off.

“I’ve had worse. I’m a clumsy person.” Seriously, I fell on a desktop once and I had to get stitches on my head before. Being slammed into the floor is not on the top ten lists of painful things in my life due to falling or bumping into things.

I accept his out stretched hand though, if only so he wouldn’t feel as guilty. To my surprise, the small kid lifts me up with ease, despite me being almost twice his size.

I brush off the dirt from the school’s floor off my pants and smile at the kid. “Thanks ummm…” Crap, I don’t even know his name.

Thankfully he seems to notice my distress and holds out a hand in greeting, gaining his own smile. “Danny. Danny Fenton.”

My smile broadens, “Hannah Wahnsinn. Nice to meet you.”

 


	3. An Amazon Sized Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny runs into the new girl... quite literally.

_Almost there. I might actually make it this time!_ Danny Fenton thinks as he runs furiously down the hallway, ignoring the annoyed yells of his lingering classmates.

He had just finished fighting Skulker after only less than three hours of sleep. The mechanical ghost had decided that he needed his vengeance _that_ morning much to the halfa’s despair. Currently, said teen is barreling towards Mr. Lancer’s classroom, almost late to Homeroom on the first day of the week.

Why three hours of sleep? Ember, that’s why. Danny stopped her last night from running a worldwide concert (again) and had gotten home late (1:47 AM to be exact). Skulker woke him up (4:30 AM-ish) and hunted him this morning to “avenge the pride” of his girlfriend by “mounting [his] pelt upon their bedroom wall.”

For obvious reasons, that comment had been met with multiple levels of eww.

Danny figures that Ember will be pissed when she finds out that Skulker had defended her. The halfa knows that Ember does not appreciate it when the hunter makes it look like she can’t take care of herself. The teen learned that from hanging out with Sam.

Danny turns the corner, skidding slightly on the tile floor. In the back of the mind, he thinks he leaves streak marks before continuing to run full force to the English teacher’s classroom. The one minute bell trills above him. Danny sees some of the other students scurry to their nearby classes like a bunch of lemmings.

Seeing how the hallways are becoming more chaotic, Danny taps into his ghostly abilities and increasing his speed ever so slightly. Not enough to think super powered teen, but enough to raise the eyebrows of those who knew that Danny _Fenton_ is anything but athletic.

Danny dodges a couple of nerds lumbering around with their instruments. He yells back an apology for startling them before turning the final corner.

Unfortunately for the sophomore, he has not taken Physics I yet. If he had then maybe he would have understood the concept of momentum, the larger and faster the object the harder it is to stop. Even more unfortunate, the concept does not apply to ghost half as it does to his human half. Considering a ghost defies the laws of gravity, momentum has not been even an afterthought. Therefore, high speeds means nothing to the halfa since he could usually stop from speeds faster than the speed of sound in seconds with little to no issues.

Such the case, when the very human half of Danny turns the corner at a track record breaking speed, he does not expect to see another person standing there. Although he tries to stop himself, Danny feels the full effects of the furious laws of momentum which seem to be seeking their revenge after over a year of being broken by his ghost half.

As a result, Danny could not stop himself as he slams into the poor unsuspecting person in front of him.

He winces at the force of the impact. The halfa stumbles backwards in a slight daze, already feeling the blooming pain near his right shoulder. A few seconds later, he looks down, wide eyed. A girl who he has never seen before lays next to Mr. Lancer’s classroom door, groaning slightly on the ground.

Danny snaps out of his shock and rushes towards the girl. Without a moment’s hesitation, he reaches out to help her up.

Hopefully the girl won’t be too pissed at him to accept his help.

“Sorry, I should have watched where I was going. Are you okay?” The girl doesn’t respond at first, much to the despair of the boy’s panicking heart, but after a moment, she slowly looks over to him. She blinks at him, watching him in a daze, slight confusion on her face. The halfa wonders if he somehow caused the stranger brain damage.

Much to his surprise, instead of yelling at him, the girl _laughs_ and gets up from her sprawled position and crosses her legs Indian style. “I’m okay, just a bit sore.” She then _smiles_ at him like he didn’t just knock her unceremoniously to the ground. 

Danny blinks incredulously at the strange girl before looking over to her hurt shoulder, nearly wincing once more as he remembered the force of the impact. He actually does wince when he remembers the sound she made when she fell. “You’re sure? That was a pretty nasty fall.” She waves him off, but Danny couldn’t help but noticing she used her uninjured side to do the action.

“I’ve had worse. I’m a clumsy person.” She states this as a fact, though an embarrassed smile comes across her face.

To his relief, she finally accepts his outstretched hand, stumbling a bit as he pulled her up with a small amount of his ghostly strength. For a second, there’s another look of bewilderment on her face before turning into another friendly smile.

Danny curses himself for a moment for recklessly using his super strength. While being strong didn’t automatically connect to him being Danny Phantom, it’s still a stupid slip up.

As she brushes off the dirt off her jeans, Danny notices for the first time how, not to be rude, big she is.

The girl is easily half a head taller than him, at the very least. She has wide shoulders, long legs, just large in general. She’s semi-bulky to the point to being slightly overweight, though her height makes her look strong rather than stocky.

Danny notices she has the type of face that would look under eighteen at thirty. She has chubby cheeks, but most of the baby fat seems to be gone, leaving a permanent child-like figure. With a small nose and wide green-blue eyes, he couldn’t help but think she looks like a giant twelve year old instead of sophomore in high school.

Dark brown hair is strewn in a braid behind her back. The boy’s eyes nearly widens at the length of it. Even as she dusts off the dirt on her jeans, he can see it swing behind her at length too long to be considered merely above average. He suspects that the braid would reach her thighs when standing straight.

Another strange thing is that the girl is _pale_ as in paler than Sam pale. If his ghost half wasn’t tanner than his human half, than he would say she’s paler than a ghost. Therefore, she’s as pale as a vampire, making the freckles on her face stand out like ectoplasm in a cookie.

Finally, her clothes. The best way to describe her outfit would be that of a guy, other than the small gold hoop earrings, of course. A giant, blue backpack is thrown over her left shoulder, being gripped tightly with by her hand a lunch bag in the other. She has loose jeans, one pocket flaring out and the ends eclipsing her black and white sneakers. She has a black leather jacket on that looks way too hot for this time of year. Both pockets are bulging with,.. something in them. For the life of him, Danny couldn’t tell. Finally, the girl wears a black graphic t-shirt that has a giant name-tag in the center. In professional script on top says “Hello my name is” with “Star Lord” in a more messy printed handwriting in the white space below.

Danny doesn’t linger on the nametag too long, since the design is on the center of her chest, but he has the feeling he should know the reference.

Overall, he concludes that she’s not like most of the girls he has run into. Granted, most of the girls he knows could either kick his butt, wanted to kill him, or are popular ditzes, but he has a feeling that most girls wouldn’t laugh off getting harshly thrown to the floor like it was nothing or wear graphic t-shirts with random references.

Not like the boy could understand girls in the first place.

“Thanks ummm…” He is snapped out of his thoughts when she speaks up again. She furrows her eyebrows, puts a hand in her pants pockets and frowns, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

 _She doesn’t know my name._ Danny realizes.

“Danny. Danny Fenton.” He says, extending his hand out to her.

Her relief is obvious as the smile returns to her face. She takes the hand out of her pocket and accepts his handshake. “Hannah Wahnsinn. Nice to meet you.” 

It’s a nice moment, meeting someone new who didn’t want to kill him and/or wanted to make his life a living hell for once. But for Danny, nice moments seem to last for only that, a moment.

Case and point, the moment he is about to ask what Hannah what her shirt is referencing to, because not knowing is killing him, the tardy bell starts ringing above them.

He groans. Murphy really hates him today.

“Crap, that was the bell wasn’t it?” Hannah asks, looking guilty. Danny blinks at the semi-morbid language. For some reason, a person like her didn’t seem the type. Before he could answer though, a familiar voice pops into the conversation.

“Yes, Ms. Wahnsinn. That _was_ the bell, and that means you, Mr. Fenton, are late to class. Detention.” Mr. Lancer picks that exact moment to come out the door, giving the halfa a disapproving glare.

 _Life really hates me today doesn’t it?_ He thinks.

Danny sighs, resigned to his fate with a ‘Yes, Mr. Lancer’, and watches the English teacher glare turns away from him. The glare transforms into one of respectful pride, as he smiles towards the new girl.

_Great. She’s already a favorite._

The teacher ignores the discontent boy and talks to Hannah like he isn’t even there. “Why don’t we go to class, so you can introduce yourself, Ms. Wahnsinn?”

“But Mr. Lancer, Danny didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who held him up.” Two pairs of eyes shoot to her in an instant, both disbelieving. Although, Danny suspects for different reasons.

It’s the first time the boy notices Hannah’s expression. She has the same disapproving look that Mr. Lancer had towards his student except it’s toward the teacher himself instead of Danny. The look could be considered rebellious, and in reality it is. However, with the way the new girl holds herself, shoulders back and arms crossed with an undeterred glare towards Mr. Lancer, she seems to think herself more like an equal to the teacher rather than a student, and therefore, feels like she has the right to berate him.

 _Great. The new girl is Jazz 2.0._  But Danny continues to watch the little exchange with interest.

It takes a moment, but Mr. Lancer recovers from his shock. His disbelieving stare turns into one of almost sympathy.

“Ms. Wahnsinn.” He starts, his tone similar to that of admonishing an ignorant child. “As much as I admire you defending a fellow classmate, this is not Mr. Fenton’s first offence when it comes to tardies. The detentions are to deter this type of action. I do not like giving detention, but they are necessary.  Do you understand, Ms. Wahnsinn?”

Hannah simply watches the teacher for moment. Danny sees her eyes narrow, her back straightening to its fullest. The girl purses her lips in a way that the boy could tell that was not the reaction she wanted from the man.

Suddenly, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When Hannah opens them again, she begins to speak.

“Oh, I understand completely, Mr. Lancer. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. It’s basic Science 101. However, _you_ need to take in the circumstances.” She starts, sounding almost mocking. The tone goes away though and turns to one that a person might use when explaining a step-by-step math problem.

“ _Danny_ would have been on time we hadn’t run into each other and taken the time to introduce ourselves. As a new student, I was grateful for finding a friendly face on the first day and took Danny’s precious time without understanding the consequences of my actions. If it wasn’t for he would have been perfectly on time. Instead, Danny was a decent person and took out his time to be friendly, not in a romantic way mind you, but in a way that assures me that I won’t be alone starting high school.”

She has to stop for a moment, clutching her chest as she does so and breathing deeply before continuing once more. Danny takes note of the action somewhere in the part of his mind that’s not in a state of shock and/or awe.

After she recovers, she glares at the teacher. “Now tell me Mr. Lancer, do _you_ understand? Giving him a detention _now_ only tells him that it’s not right to help others and be friendly to others in their time of need. Yes, he should have been on time. Yes, this is a continued offence. However, at the moment, Danny did nothing wrong.”

Her entire demeanor shifts and almost becomes casual, the pursed lips turning into an easy smile, but Danny could see, even in his shock, that her eyes still have a dangerous sort of look in them, a look that says, ‘I will not back down, will you?’

Danny has that look when he fights ghosts, and it’s a look that the seemingly innocent looking girl wears well. The idea doesn’t particularly sit well with him.

Hannah’s tone turns sickly sweet as she finishes. “Besides, it’s the Monday, Give him some slack. I don’t think we should start off the week on a bad note, do you?”

Mr. Lancer is silent for a moment, mimicking Danny’s shock before almost glaring at Hannah. The group could practically feel the tension in the room coming down in the hallway, waiting for the right moment to suffocate them.

The girl and teacher both stand their ground, neither relenting. Danny couldn’t help but think Hannah is going overboard. After all, it’s just one detention. Nothing to get worked up about.

Mr. Lancer suddenly closes his eyes with a sigh. “Alright, you win.” He opens his defeated eyes and looks over to Danny. “Mr. Fenton, get inside, no detention this time, but try to be on time next time, please.”

“Uhh... really…?”  The teacher nods. “Uhh…Thanks, Mr. Lancer! I’ll try…”  The teacher moves to let Danny in the classroom. Numbly, Danny starts walking. As he’s about to go in, the halfa pauses and turns to his savior with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Hannah.”

In return, Hannah gives him a small tired looking smile. The grip on his backpack seems almost looser than before making the backpack almost fall off her shoulder. “No problem, Danny.”

He gives her a concerned look, but doesn’t question her due to the watchful eyes of a certain English teacher. Instead, he rushes into his Homeroom.

As he enters the room, thirty heads turn to him at once, conversations pausing suddenly. Danny tries to look at anywhere but his classmates as he makes his way to the back corner of the classroom where his friends are.

He pretends to not feel the pressure of the stares staring, glaring, and even simply blinking incredulously at him. Instead, he moves as quickly as his human half could without being suspicious, ignoring the hissing whispers as he walks by.

“Hey, Fenturd.” _Dash._ His mind provides. Danny ignores the jock in favor of moving forward. “Hey, don’t ignore me! I was talking to you!” A sudden grip on his right wrist stops his one row from his destination. It takes every bit of the halfa’s willpower to stop his reflexes from knocking the bully out right then and there.

Not like Dash didn’t deserve it.

Instead he allows the jock to harshly turn him around and winces slightly as his hurt shoulder aches from the rough treatment. Dash glares down at him with a small quirk on his lips. Before the bully could even make a vague threat, Mr.  Lancer came rushing back into the classroom.

“Settle down! Settle down! Get to your seats, it’s time for class! That means you Mr. Fenton. Take a seat.” Danny gives a small sigh of relief as Dash released him, but nearly groans at the snarl the bully gives him.

“We’ll settle this later, loser.” Then the blonde stomps back to the A-listers, scowling at his ‘friends’ for not being able to beat up his favorite punching bag.

Isn’t Dash’s life so hard?

Danny readjusts his backpack and turns away from the A-listers, mumbling under his breath as his walks back to his friends. “Can’t wait…”

As he slumps in his seat, Sam and Tucker lean forward in theirs, giving him concerned looks. Tucker whispers to Danny. “Hey dude. What was that about?”

Sam rolls her eyes. “How much trouble did you get into this time?”

Danny turns to them, rubbing his tired eyes as he does so. “Well, none actually. The new girl saved me from another detention after school.”

The two instantly straighten up. To the halfa’s surprise, Sam looks suspicious to the point of almost glaring. “A new girl?”

Tucker’s reaction is not so surprising. He looks like Christmas came early judging by the size of his grin. “What’s she like? More importantly, will she like me?”

Before Danny could answer, he is interrupted once more by Mr. Lancer who had apparently finished his conversation with Hannah in the hallway. The teacher huffed and yelled at the class. “Quiet down! _For Whom the Bell Tolls_ , people, it’s time to settle down!”

Homeroom slowly quiets down. Once it’s silent the teacher speaks up again.

“Now, normally this would be a time for a study hall period.” Danny nearly snorts. Yeah, study hall, also known as his catch up on sleep time. “However, today we have someone special here today. Come on in Ms. Wahnsinn.” And lo and behold, Hannah walks in stopping in front of Mr. Lancer’s desk. She still has her backpack on over only one shoulder, probably due to her previous injury… that Danny caused.

Great. It’s only the girl’s first day, and he’s already making her life worse.

Danny looks around to see his other classmates whispering. Some snicker and point while others are gaping from what, Danny figures from number of things. The girl looks a bit different from what Casper is used to.

He glances at his friends to see their reactions. Sam has her famous calculating/analytical look. She must think that Hannah might be some sort of ghost or threat that wants to kill Danny or help the malicious ghosts in town…

Or something. Even after all these years, he _still_ didn’t really know how his best friend that is a girl’s mind worked.

Tucker on the other hand is mumbling something under his breath as he types something on his PDA. With his ghost hearing, Danny hears him saying something about extreme height with the potential to be a nerd and potentially fake long hair.

Apparently, he’s profiling the new girl. At least Tucker is consistent.

Mr. Lancer sighs and hushes the class once more before continuing.

“Class, this is Ms. Hannah Wahnsinn. She just moved here from Texas. I do hope you make her feel welcomed.” The teacher gestures to Hannah who blinks at him before looking back to the class, smile turning into a more neutral expression.

“Uhh… Hi…” She stands there for a moment before turning to the teacher and whispering. Although Danny suspects she wants to be heard judging by how loud she ‘whispers.’ “Mr. Lancer, what do you want me to do again?”

A few people in the class laugh at her awkward display. The teacher simply sighs.

“Introduce yourself, Ms. Wahnsinn.” Hannah arches an eyebrow at him, smirking like she’s trying to hide a laugh.

“Didn’t you just do that? And what? No guidelines? No general direction?”

He sighs again and gives her ‘the look.’ “Today please.”

“Fine.” She groans overdramatically though the smile still covers her face, showing it’s all in good humor. “Hello, my name is Hannah Wahnsinn, but Mr. Lancer already told you that. I’m fifteen going on sixteen years old in November. Yes, I’m from Texas, but moved around a lot, but I was generally in the Houston or San Antonio areas. However, let’s just make this clear, I’ve never ridden a horse, and I’ve probably seen less countryside than you’ve guys have. Though I have been to a rodeo. Then again rodeos are just like carnivals but with animal shows and prizes instead of clowns and sleazy dealers.”

She pretends to contemplate this for a moment as a handful of people, including Danny and Tucker laugh. Even Sam has a small smirk. Hannah looks back to the class with another smile.

“Let’s see what else? My favorite color is a teal blueish color that looks almost green. I like playing videogames and watching anime, but not the porn stuff because that’s gross.” Danny is pretty sure she has the attention of all the nerds. Poor girl. It’s the first day of school, and she’s already doomed herself to the lowest branch on the popularity scale, other than him, of course.  “Oh! This is important. If you don’t get sarcasm, you won’t get me.” She pauses here for a moment before shrugging. “But hey what else is new?

“What else is there to say? See I really need an outline for all the important stuff. Oh yeah! Got one!” She gains that dark look in her eyes again. The sickly sweet tone that screams ‘danger! Get far away!’ is in her voice once more when she speaks again.

“My doctors tell me that I’m going to die in my early twenties because of a lungs don’t want to stay together.”

Danny freezes. The whole classroom freezes. They all stare at Hannah whose still smiling. Everyone seems to have the same thought on their minds as they stare incredulously at the smiling stranger.

_Wait. What did she just say?_


	4. Personal Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Hannah feels guilty about shocking people and sees potential friends.

I watch as the class freezes in place. Even those who were only half listening do double takes and start staring at me, wide eyed with disbelief, shock, or confusion. All the while, I stand in front of the class, smiling sweetly like I didn’t just tell them that their new classmate would be leaving them soon in the worst possible of ways.

Oh yes, the cheery nerd having a tragic backstory. I can see it now. Rumors spreading of a girl with no friends from moving to place to place because of an incurable disease. Watch out! Don’t get too close! You might get infected. All the while she’s covering up her true pain and suffering behind a veil of sarcasm and smiles. In the end, it’s all she can do to die alone in the hospital, friendless and forgotten.

Oh, woe is me and stuff.

But seriously though, the shock factor was just to annoy Mr. Favoritism. He probably had some big bad speech planned after I introduced myself about being careful and that they should be good humanitarians and help me and junk like that.

Ha! I have enough of the stage and spotlight, thank you very much.

**All you need is a microphone, and you’ll be set.**

I mentally arch an eyebrow at Ini. _And do what? Pole dance with it? You know, I can’t exactly sing. Bad lungs you know?_

Ini’s giggle echoes in my head. She then sends a mental image of me tangoing with a microphone stand in front of the classroom. The entire class plus Mr. Lancer and Ms. Ishiyama gape at me stupidly while a boy, Danny I think, sits in the background laughing.

Inwardly, I smirk. Not exactly what I meant by pole dancing, but hey, that’s embodiment of innocence and insanity for you.

“Ms. Wahnsinn!” I look lazily towards the teacher who is looking at me with a mixture of shock and disproval.

‘I’m sorry did you want to wait to make them love me before crushing their dreams of being my friend?’ This is what I want to reply, but that would not win me any favors. I’m done messing with the man, for now. No need to make him my enemy on the first day of school.

“Sorry to be blunt, Mr. Lancer. I just thought they should know. That’s practically the whole reason that you’re showcasing me up here, isn’t it?” Damn. I let some snark seep through. Oh well.

He gives me an unamused look. “There are procedures and better ways to present these types of issues. The way you presented the issue was uncalled for.”

Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. All I hear are excuses to hide the truth. 

“This is a joke right? Because this isn’t funny Mr. Lancer.” I turn to see a blonde kid with a letterman (wow, he got that thing when he was a freshman. Impressive.), suddenly speaking up. His eyes flick between us, wide eyed and afraid.

I look around the room and find the same expression on other people’s faces. Okay, _now_ I’m feeling guilty. I didn’t want these guys to get feel bad.

Great. Now, I’m the bad guy.

I smile sadly at the jocky looking dude. “Sorry, but it’s true. A genetic defect that causes my lungs not to be able to replace new cells as quickly as they should. It wouldn’t be so bad, but the lungs are only once cell thick and regeneration is essential. Overtime, my lungs will deteriorate to the point of being unusable, and I’ll die. Right now I’m projected to live for ten more years at best.”

The poor guy’s eyes widen even further, his mouth slightly agape. “Ten years?” He mumbles. “That’s not enough time to do… anything.”

I shrug. “It’s better doing nothing normally with other people for ten years than being alive in a hospital bed alone for twenty.” I pause in my speech then sigh in frustration. “Look, this isn’t about my short life span. I knew I was gonna die young at ten. I’m practically numb to the idea now. Yeah, the numb will probably wear off when I’m on my death bed, but that’s neither here nor there.” I shake my head. I’m getting sidetracked. “The point is the only reason I’m telling you this is so I can live longer and not die when an emergency happens.”

“Like what?” The blonde jock asks, rather loudly in my opinion. “What can _we_ do to stop this stupid lung cancer? It’s not like we’re doctors or anything!”

The boy shrinks back as I turn to glare at him. “First of all it’s not cancer. I’ve seen cancer. Trust me, this is not it.” I close my eyes and calm myself. They didn’t know about my mom. How could they? I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and open my eyes to continue. “All I’m asking is to look out for me.”

I pull out my inhaler from my right jacket pocket and hold it up for everyone to see. The crowd leans in closer to get a better look. “This is my emergency lifeline, aka my inhaler. If I’m clutching my chest, I will probably use it to not feel like I’m dying. One spritz coats my lungs with this junk that holds them together and stimulates cell growth.” I put the inhaler back into my pocket.

“W…wh..wh...why are you telling us this?” The red headed stereotypical looking nerd in the front asks. (Seriously, the guys screams nerd pride. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a sign saying ‘beat me up’ on his back.)

I arch an eyebrow and smile, amused. “Because Principal Ishiyama thought it was a great idea to tell my Homeroom of my condition just in case I can’t get to my inhaler, or if I have an attack, and I’m too weak to get up afterwards to go to the nurse’s office. I’m just asking you guys to have my back for the worst case scenario. The more people who know, the greater reassurance of my safety.” I pull my backpack off my shoulder and dig through the front pocket until I pull out yet another inhaler.

“There’s always one inhaler in my right jacket pocket or jeans pocket if it’s too hot. The other one is the front pocket of my backpack. Just hand it to me so I can use it. If I can’t, and worst comes to worst and there’s no teacher around to help, shake it and spray it into my mouth.”

And hope to God it works.

I’ve never actually gotten to that scenario. The closest situation to a student helping me would be carrying me to the nurse’s office. I don’t know if I’m beyond helping myself that the spray will actually work.

Best not to think about it, and just hope that I’ll live.

**Or you could ask Daddy.**

_Maybe. But shh... I’m in the middle of an epic explanation._

**Yes, I will let you have your moment, oh, Master of Explanations.**

I sigh, put the inhaler back into my backpack and pull it back over my shoulder before I look at them all. “So any questions?”

I see a hand raise tentatively in the back of the class. An African American boy (or did he prefer to be called black? Race politics suck.)  in a red beret wearing glasses and a yellow sweater – sweat shirt looking thing. He’s studying me, like he’s unsure of what to make of me.

“This…this isn’t some cruel joke right? Because it’s not very funny if it is.” His voice is a little shaky. Ini notes that he asked the opposite question of the jock. I half acknowledge her and look around. The entire class seems to be waiting for an answer.

I shake my head, stuffing my hands in my jean pockets as I did so. “No. It’s not a joke. It hasn’t been a joke for six years, but let me tell you this.”

Thank goodness I don’t have stage fright because if I did, their stares would have sent me running the other direction. Even so, I have to resist the urge to look away from the crowd with all the attention I’m getting.

I close my eyes, trying to calm myself and find the right words. “Look, I may be dying, but I’m not dead. I want to live my life as much as I can, even if it’s not something spectacular because really if I’m happy and enjoying the little things that life has to offer, is it such a bum deal?” I take a moment to wet my chapped lips, trying to ignore the stares. When I continue, my voice is quieter, almost a whisper. “Yeah, I’m going to die young. Granted, that fact terrifies me sometime and other times it’s…it’s…like..”

My eyes widen when I found the right words, though my heart sinks with each word that comes out of my mouth. “It’s like being frozen in front of rushing train.” Eyes around the room become tinted with curious interest. “You know it’s coming. You know you’re gonna die. Sometimes, you just want it to come faster and get it over with, because just waiting for it kills you more than actually dying sometimes… but…” I think of my dad. His jokes, his hugs, and what he does for me. A more genuine softer sort of smile creeps onto my face. “I have a good life. I have a loving father with a steady income. Yeah, I’m the new girl, but even if I don’t have a single friend here, I have my friends back at Texas that I can skype with if I ever get lonely.

“I’m content and happy, which is more than what a lot of people can say. There are other people dying on the streets with their own fears, their own trains rushing to get them and unlike me their trains might have been coming for years without anyone else to help them. So yeah, it sucks. I’m dying, but it could be worse. Don’t pity me. I hate that. There’s nothing I can do to stop this from coming without ending myself right now. So why worry you know?”

They don’t understand. They probably would never understand. I can tell that just by seeing their confused, angry, _damn pitiful,_ anything but empathetic faces. Not like I wanted them to know what it feels like to have a death warrant, but still, it’s sad to see.

**Look again. In the back of the class.**

I follow Ini’s instructions and, to my shock, she’s right.

There are three teenagers in the back who have that look in their eyes. The look that’s way too mature for their ages. It’s Danny, the African American boy, and a Punk/Goth looking girl.

The girl looks at me with what seems like respect. She leans back in her chair, arms crossed, and a slight frown on her face. Her violet eyes stare, analyzing me, but she nods acceptingly, much to my confusion.

Red Beret (Dang I need to know names) simply stares at me like I’m an alien creature from another planet. His expression has a mixture of awe and (damn it) pity. Unlike most of the others though, he has a small smile on his face. It’s reassuring in a way that says to me that he knows that he doesn’t quite understands, but he’ll try the best way he can.

And then there’s Danny. He _does_ have the empathetic stare. Like he knows the very possibility of death every day and hides it away with a smile. Like he knows his own morality. I can‘t distinguish what all he knows in that stare. The only thing I do know is that with a small quirk of a reassuring smile that’s on his face with understanding in his eyes, he gets it. He knows I don’t want their pity because pity just makes everything worse.

I feel the soft smile return to my face before looking away from them. They’ll be on my top list of ‘people who I should try to befriend’…though I don’t want to know what demons made them able to be empathetic.

Maybe in time.

I force myself to look away and smile back to the class. “So… anything else?”

Other than a few whispers of conversations, no one speaks up.

“Alright then.” I jump when Mr. Lancer speaks, swirling my head suddenly to look at him. I forgot Mr. Favoritism was there. “You may sit next to whomever you like for the remainder of the Homeroom. However, I would like to see you afterschool if you don’t mind, Ms. Wahnsinn.”

“Not at all. Just not too long though. I have to get home as soon as possible.”

“Of course.”

As I turn away, I notice the arrangement of the room for the first time.  It’s astounding really.

For a person to understand why I revel in the wonder of human and social interactions, a little story is in store.

 I remember in sixth grade when my history teacher told us to look around the classroom on the first day of school. We were confused since we didn’t find anything wrong. Then he pointed it out. We had all arranged ourselves according to our social groups. Keep in mind at the time I just moved to a new area (again), and we just started middle school, so all the faces were new. The most fascinating and maybe disturbing thing is that my teacher was right. I found myself sitting with a Caucasian girl who had a shirt with Pokémon reference, another Caucasian nerd, a nervous looking boy this time, and an Asian girl reading the Hunger Games, quirking an eyebrow at the teacher for giving her something new to notice.

Just my type of people.

Ever since then, I’ve noticed the separation, the isolation, people tend to unconsciously to put others in when they aren’t assigned a place to be. Ini didn’t particularly get it when I tried to make her understand. After all, people are people, and they should be treated equally based on character, not on hobbies, race, sexual orientation, etc.

Ini doesn’t get a lot of things, especially when it comes to human cruelties.

And here, just like in my middle school and my last high school, you can tell that the students have arranged _themselves_ rather than be assigned seats.

The right side of the room seems to have all the better off kids or at the very least, seemingly better off. The jocky ones with the bright smiles and cocky eyes, who are alternating between chatting with their friends and staring at me. Then there are the pretty girls next to them that know that they’re pretty and wear make-up to make them look twenty. 

They must think they look more mature no doubt.

I think they’re the cheerleaders as well, but to be completely honest, if these girls were to go to my old schools, they would instantly be labeled as sluts. Not fair maybe, but with the heavy make-up, skinny jeans, way-too-tall high heels, and crop tops, I’m sorry, there’s little to no other labels you can put on them other than ‘you know you want to do me.’

Not fair, but with the cocky ass looks they’re giving me, I’m keeping with that sentiment.

In the front of the class, the type of kids that could be described as either geeks or band nerds sit shakily in the front like they’re terrified of their own shadows, which from personal experience, shadows can be horrifying! They look between me and the jocks, gulping and sweating nervously as they continue stare worriedly. What are they worried about? I have my suspicions, but I’m just hoping I’m wrong.

I really don’t want the School Wrecker to come back. 

Then there are the etcetera kids, of course. Those who don’t particularly belong in the previously established groups like a couple of brooding or overly cheerful groups or are sitting by themselves. One African American girl wearing a yellow tank top sits by herself. I would try to sit next to her, but she keeps giving me an odd look that’s a mixture of pity and cold analysis like she’s fighting an inner battle with herself or something.

I’m going to be Switzerland and not get involved with her little war.

And then there’s the trio in the back. It’s so weird! It’s like there’s a little bubble around them. The concept fascinates and concerns me in equal measure.

The three sit the back corner of the room farthest from the door. The Goth/Punk girl sits in the corner and the red beret dude sits next to her while Danny sits in front of them both. However, there’s at least one desk between them and everyone else in the classroom. Even those close to them are turned away. It simultaneously makes them invisible and paints a huge target on the little group.

It’s these moments of stepping back and seeing everything that makes me wonder. Wonder what? Various things, I suppose. On my more vindictive days it would be the hope of humanity when we can’t even bring people together in a classroom. These jocks have these stupid sneers and arrogant smiles that repulse like a magnet, yet in this case opposite don’t attract.

Yet some days when I’m kinder, I give logic to the separation. People of certain social groups don’t need to interact if they don’t want to. People have the right to sit with the people they choose. I know I don’t want to sit with random people I don’t particularly know that well when I could be sitting with my friends.

Today, I’m just tired and don’t give a crap. Having the class stare at me like I was about to fall over at any moment is not on my top ten lists of things on my bucket list. Trust me, I have one.

Time for a complaining moment. I’m physically tired from waking up early and socially tired from all this people. If only I was mentally exhausted then the rest of Homeroom could make a good nap time.

Complaining moment over.

Unfortunately that’s not the case for me at the moment, and I need to find a seat before I can even think about napping. There’s an empty desk in the front right corner of the room, one away from the wall, that’s calling my name, so I walk over to it, swing my backpack to the ground, and plop down in my seat.

There are a few whispers around me, but I’m not feeling up to eavesdropping on blatantly loud conversations next to me. They give me headaches to listen to. Instead, I sigh and rummage through my backpack with one hand until I find my drawing notebook.

Let’s just make this clear, I’m no artist, nor do I want to go professional though I might write a book before I die. No, I just like to doodle. My dad bought me the notebook after he got tired of seeing pen marks on my arm. That and the note one teacher gave him that she was not amused at my doddles on the back of my semester exam.

In my defense, it was almost an hour before the final bell rang, and she told us we weren’t allowed to do anything after the test except sit there. I guess she hoped to encourage us to check our answers, but I already did that five times before I started doodling. It was her fault for making the test so easy.

I don’t do well with boredom.

I sigh once more as I pull a pencil out of my bag, twirling it absentmindedly between my fingers. I close my eyes and get distracted at the feeling of wood dancing on my skin, slowing or speeding up the movements randomly to see how it would feel.

I stop twirling it when I accidently stab my hand with the point edge, biting my lip to keep from reacting too much.

**Concentrate, Hannah!**

_Go away._

**Don’t you love me, cranky?**

_Shut up, we all can’t be hyperactive like you._

**Why are you so cranky, Hannah?**

_Other than being tired, I just can’t figure out what to draw._

I draw a little swirl on the paper to show my lack o’ creativity at the moment. My eye twitches at the persona’s reaction. Predictably, Ini is jumping around her little mental room like a three year old on a sugar high at the prospect at being creative, the lights in her room swirling in random colored spotlights, giving me a headache.

She grins at me as she jumps around.

**I know! I know! I know!**

_Not the ghost boy._

She suddenly stops jumping around and pouts, lights suddenly still.

**…Fine… Then just draw regular ghosts then.**

_You’re really demanding today, you know that?_

I expect some cutesy or smarty response back from her or even a pout with a spout of outrage from the persona.

**…please?**

Her pleading tone catches me off guard. It’s silent in my mind, as she waits for her answer. I imagine her ears are turned back, her eyes glancing at anywhere but where she looks when she talks to me. It’s a heartbreaking sight to see. For anyone else, I would think they were trying to manipulate me in some way, but _this_ is Ini, and she doesn’t understand the meaning of manipulation. 

The silence penetrates the whispering students around me, making them seem like garbles in another land. I frown at the situation, my heart heavy from Ini’s reaction.

 I… I don’t know why she’s like this. Ini gets this way for the most random reasons. I try to find logic in her actions, but she’s one of the only people that I can’t seem to figure out, which is ironic since she _is_ in my head.

She suddenly attacks herself sometimes. Mentally and not like with her claws and teeth and such, not physical harm. The closest thing I could compare it to would be ego issues that normal teenagers would get. It’s like she doesn’t feel worthy or guilty at moments. I never particularly understand it.

It doesn’t mean I don’t try.

I flip to a fresh page and smile softly, but making sure I direct the feelings of comfort towards my little persona.

_Alright my Insanity._

And when Ini smiles, I start drawing ghosts in my notebook, using a small swirl as a starting point.


	5. Valleys, Hills, and Vali

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hannah has a vendetta against Romeo and Juliet, Valerie is as stubborn as always, Ini bullies her Logic to become illogical, and the Lovebird gag is never funny.

Worst. First. Day. Ever.

Okay, second worst first day ever. The first day of third grade beat this awful day, if only marginally, but it’s only just lunch, so anything could happen.

I just hate people sometimes!

After the experience that was Homeroom, first through third periods weren’t so bad. Yeah, I got weird looks from the juniors in Pre-AP Algebra II, but they were friendly enough in general. My World History AP teacher is awesome! I swear she’s the perfect blend of sarcasm, no nonsense attitude, and relatability. For third period, the Theatre director was... eccentric to say the least. The class was okay though, so there wasn’t much to complain about.

And then there was fourth period, English II. I’m regretting not signing up for _pre-AP_ English II, but that’s what I get for underestimating myself.

I walked into Mr. Lancer’s class, just as I did for the other teachers. He gave me a ‘look’ before directing me to an empty seat in front of his desk. The class slowly filed in. Unlike this morning, people seemed to be assigned to actual regulated seats since Danny wasn’t sitting to either of his two friends from earlier.

No, he was clenching his teeth as the jocks in the back were throwing whatever they find at his head. It was surreal at the sheer amount of crap they could find to throw at the boy. Pencils, erasers, crumpled up pieces of paper, and freaking _spit balls_ for crying out loud! What the hell? Excuse my French, but what the fuck is wrong with these people? Do they think they’re stuck in some sitcom where the only way they could get out was to act out the role of the horrible jock that everyone hates?

Again, excuse my French, but what the actual fuck!?

The worst part? Mr. Lancer didn’t even seem to notice. He was reading a freaking book. A fucking book. Not only that, but he had a little handkerchief in his hands, dabbing his eyes out at the pages before him like he was listening to Mozart and seeing the most beautiful thing in the world.

When I thought I couldn’t get more pissed off, when Danny actually turned to yell at the jock, which he had every right to do, Mr. Favoritism had the _nerve_ to yell at the boy for interrupting the class when, mind you, the bell hadn’t even rung yet.

Danny, bless his heart because I think he’s an actual saint, simply glared at… Dash (I think that’s the prick’s name, but I don’t really give a flying flip about him), shared a look with his two friends, and turned away. Danny’s face was blank, but his clenched fists told all. He was pissed, yeah, but I know I wouldn’t have had the self-control not to yell at the blonde jock at the very least.

The class proceeded as normal from there. Well… kinda. Mr. Lancer needs to work on his presentation because dramatically reading Romeo and Juliet (both roles) was just plain awkward and borderline creepy. Yeah, he enjoys literature, I get that, but he didn’t need reenact the final death scene complete with dramatic dying from the hands of an imaginary dagger.

Ini was entertained at least.

Then Mr. Lancer started asking questions about the play. Remember, I’m an impatient person and quite frankly, it’s one of the main reason why I’m probably not gonna get a lot of friends here at Casper. To me, the silence after a teacher asks a question and _nobody_ even _attempts_ to answer the question is one of the most irritatingly annoying things in the world.

Since I read _Romeo and Juliet_ my freshmen year, I knew what the heck he was talking about when he asked us about the play. But it wasn’t until my scoffing sound at the fact he couldn’t believe that teenagers these days weren’t into classic love stories did he finally directly ask me a question, clearly looking annoyed.

This one question about the plotline that I easily answered led to another question and answer session which led to me ranting about the lack of actual love in this so called love story, the parallels between modern society and the _Romeo and Juliet_ one, the blame resting on the Nurse and the Friar for not stopping the two ‘lovebirds’ from marrying, and finally why Romeo is a cowardly pimp that needs a kick in the balls (not in those words, but essentially that’s what I said) instead of a suave love-filled lord that everyone seems to depict him as.

Mr. Lancer seemed impressed, even if he did disagree on some of my opinions (mostly my Romeo description). We actually started going back and forth on our opinions of the play with details here and there. I borrowed an extra copy for the class period as to see the quotes or clear up extra parts that I forgot about.

It was nice debating and talking about different ideas with someone who’ll actually listen. It wasn’t until the bell rang that I realized that I was in the middle of _class_ discussing the relation between fate and chance. Most people gave me seriously weird looks like I was an alien from another planet. They stared at me, as they retreated quickly out of the classroom. Others were giving me looks of disgust like being smart was a disease.

Pricks, the lot of them.

But after that fiasco, I’m headed to lunch.

Yay…

For me, the worst part of transferring to a new school in the middle of the year isn’t the classes themselves. Catching up isn’t that big of a deal, and generally, there are at least one or two decent people out there to talk to while within class, so it wasn’t too bad in a social regard.

No, the hardest part about being the new girl is lunchtime.

For most students, lunch would be their favorite‘class’ of their day, which I can’t really blame them since it’s the one time of day where they can talk to their classmates without being hushed by a higher authority. Depending on my social situation, i.e. depending if one of the people I befriend are in my lunch, this time of day could either the best, or a time where I entertain myself by myself by using strategies I learned from being an annually moving only child.

Translation:  I just do my homework or read a book with the occasional dash of gaming thrown into the mix if I’m bored and don’t give a crap about appearances that day.  

Due to the small size of Casper High (which I did confirm the school was named that _before_ the ghost invasions, much to both Ini’s and I’s amusement), there are only two lunches, one before and one after fifth period. Freshmen and sophomores have first lunch while juniors and seniors have second lunch. Of course, depending on the schedules, I would think there would be the occasional upperclassmen in the lower classmen lunch and vice versa but that’s neither here nor there.

What _is_ here, and is of immediate importance, is finding a seat.

Finding a seat might prove difficult after what just happened, however.

I look around the lunchroom. It’s the same separation as before. Nerds here. Populars there. Bands geeks. The trio. Theatre people. Yadda yadda. There only seems to be one empty table in the entire lunchroom. Of course, I go to it. Until I actually get some friends, this little spot will be mine.

I walk over to the empty table. I see it’s diagonally from where Danny and his friends are sitting. In the corner of my eye I see movement and I turn to look and see what it was. To my surprise, it’s Danny giving a little wave and a smile. I blink, but then smile and wave back. For some reason, The Goth/Punk girl gives him a little shove at this, and the three start whispering furiously at each other.

Okay then. Protective friends much? Whatever. I’m just here to eat my lunch.

I pull my lunch kit out of my backpack and start setting up for lunch. A ham, cheese, and ketchup sandwich and a mini diet coke can. Nothing spectacular, but it’s enough. I don’t particularly like eating much at school.

“Ahem.” I blink and turn to the sound, stopping mid-bite. Oh, great. It’s the African American girl that’s been giving me the stink eye all day. Joy. Right now she’s crossing her arms over her chest, lips pressed, and her stink eye raging strong.

I ignore the obvious distain and ask her. “Is this your seat?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

**Not really. Maybe a name tag would be better.** Ini pipes up, adding her own special blend of commentary.

I shake my head at both the girl’s reaction and Ini’s comment. “Sorry, I didn’t know. Do you want me to move or can I just move to the end of the table? I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

She eyes me strangely. “You seemed friendly with Danny over there. Why don’t you sit with him?”

I arch an eyebrow at her. “Just because you wave friendly at someone doesn’t mean you’re really that close. Besides, he seems close to his friends. It would be awkward if I joined them.”

“Why do you want to sit with me then, huh?” Her attitude annoys me, and I have the half mind just to move. But this is now a battle, one that I want to win. Besides, it’s fun to use logic to mess with people.

…And anyway, she’s on my list of ‘people who could potentially be a friend.’ Which, considering the fact that she’s been a jerk to be so far, either means my intuition is off or that the standards here at Casper are really low. If it’s the second, then the fact that only four people have even been considered for that list (the juniors in algebra two don’t count), says something about the quality of people at this school.

…Or that I’m picky about the people I hang out with. That works too.

I shrug at her counter. “I’m just sitting at a table. Sitting with you implies that you’re sitting with me. I could easily just sit at the end there and not bother you for the rest of the lunch period.”

“How do you know someone else isn’t going to come sit there?” I arch an eyebrow again.

“Is there? If there is, I’ll be happy to move.” She stops at this. I can practically see her mind trying to get a good enough excuse to push me away. Fortunately for me, she can’t seem to find one. The girl simply huffs and clutches her bags defensively like I’m a pyscho that’s going to steal it or something weird like that.

“Fine. You win. Just don’t bother me.” She says with a glare that I suppose is her attempt to be intimidating.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it. What’s your name by the way?”

The dang girl instantly gets defensive. “Why do you want to know?” What the heck? It’s a name. Whatever, if I could get a smile out of her, I’m going to award myself with a mental medal of victory.

My eyebrow raises higher. “Just curious. I might like to know the name of the person that I’m technically not sitting next to for lunch.” Yes! I see her smiling out the corner of her mouth at my comment! Success!

I nearly snort when Ini makes a medal appear and places it on her own forehead.

The African American girl finally sits down, not at the other end of the table but two seats away from me. It’s a bit surprising, but hey, you take what you can get. We eat in silence for a bit, her and her brown bag lunch and my own ‘which of the day. It’s actually peaceful in a weird sort of way. The constant buzzing of chatter gives a nice background noise to keep Ini occupied (she needs verbal stimulus to keep her entertained), and my lunch isn’t nearly as soggy as I thought it would be. Overall, it’s not so bad.

“…Valerie Gray.”

I jump at the sudden voice, and jerk towards the girl sitting next to me. Oh, I had forgotten she was there… dang distracting sandwich.  I mentally backtrack to what the girl said, feeling a blush rising at her amused yet slightly wary face.

“Ummm…Cool. Hannah Wahnsinn.” I smile, and give the newly dubbed Valerie a small smile. “I’ll apologize in advance but I’m horrible with names, but I’ll try my best to remember.”

She looks surprised... and again _suspicious_. “Why do you care?”

“About knowing your name?” At her nod, I shrug, placing the half-eaten sandwich back in its container. “Well, why shouldn’t I?”

“I haven’t been the nicest person towards you.”

True, but…

“And?”

“And what?”

I smirk, amused. “What does me knowing your name have to do with you being nice? I can be nice you, and you can still hate my guts for some reason that I have yet to figure out.”

She snorts. “Killing with kindness?”

I shake my head. “Nah. Not my style. I just don’t see the point on being mean just to be mean. It’s not worth the effort.”

She glares at this. “So you’re being nice to me because it’s less effort.”

“No, I’m being nice because I _can_ be nice and I would like people to be nice to me back. Golden rule. Treat others the way you want to be treated.” I know my voice sounds annoyed, but honestly, she deserves my annoyed tone. I shrug and go back to my sandwich, which had become slightly soggy due to the ketchup. Dang. “Besides, once I figure out why you dislike me, I see you being a good friend.”

“What?” Gosh dang this girl! Can she not get the picture that I’m trying to befriend her?

**Your eye is twitching.**

_Yes, with annoyance._

I huff, and carefully place the sandwich back into its container. “Look, I don’t know what your issue with me is, but I noticed you stopped glaring at me during English before I went all Shakespearean. So yeah.” I finish lamely, giving a half-hearted look at the now too soggy sandwich.

**You should put the ketchup in a separate container.**

_I’ll do that next time_.

I look back towards Valerie who is looking at me strangely. Not that I mind; I’m a strange person after all.

Finally, she just shakes her head and pulls out a banana from her bag. “You’re confusing.”

I’m guessing Ini is influencing me because I give her a wide smile. “Yep. Proud of it.”

She’s silent again for a while, peeling the banana with mild concentration. When Ini wonders if that slipping on a banana gag actually works, I shake my head and snap open my mini diet coke can. Valerie jumps a bit, before glaring at me and the soda.

Huh, it’s been a while since I’ve seen people as jumpy as me.

Valerie almost goes back to her lunch, but pauses. “Look, I can’t have friends.”

I arch an eyebrow at this strange statement, ignoring Ini sending me images of alien invaders or (scarily) dark hooded figures with ransom bills. “And why is that?”

She looks uncomfortable; I’m guessing she’s trying to find a reasonable way to say why not without actually revealing the mysterious background. After a moment, Valerie gives up and simply glares at me. “Reasons, okay?”

I snort. “Reasons? Oh, come on. You’ve got to give me a better answer than that. At least give me some creative BS to throw in my face so that I can be amused before I talk around that excuse.”

“Why are you being so insistent on this?” The girl asks, half incredulous, half annoyed.

I shrug. “Why not?”

“Because it’s annoying, and you said you wouldn’t talk to me.”

I think I’m part Slytherin because my mind just went and made a dastardly plan. Almost like a light bulb going off above my head. Yeah, the plan is made in friendship, but it’s the principal of the matter. I shrug again, pretending to accept her reasoning. “Okay then. We’ll stop talking if you want and we can eat our lunches.”

“Really?”

She’s making this way too easy. I pull out my drawing notebook and pencil out of my backpack, intending to make myself look casual as my plan comes into play. “If you want…” I flip to a clean page. “But do you really want to stop talking?”

Cue angry/confused glare from Miss Sensitive. “Do you think I would have asked if I didn’t?”

I start doodling a little circle, trying to make it as perfect as possible while free handing it while still not looking at the girl. “I would have thought you were as lonely as I was.”

“What?” I give her a pointed look.

“Come now. I’m the new girl and you have no one to sit with at lunch. Loneliness isn’t uncommon for people like us.” Valerie looks taken aback, and I almost think I’ve won. However, the girl starts glaring again.

“So you’re pitying me.” She practically spat. “Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”

Why is this girl putting words in my mouth? It’s getting annoying. I put the pencil down and cross my arms, narrowing my eyes a bit. “No. I’m being friendly. Or at least trying to be.”

“Why!?” Her voice is getting louder, higher pitched. “What do you have to gain in being my friend?”

I look around the cafeteria. People are starting to stare at us, rising eyebrows and curious glances shooting our way. While I don’t particularly care, I have a feeling that Valerie wouldn’t appreciate the looks.

Hoping to diffuse the situation, I sigh, sounding (and in reality, _being_ ) frustrated.  “This conversation is getting nowhere fast.”

She nods, straightening in her seat. “Exactly. That’s why we should stop talking.” Then she turns away, still sitting in her seat, but facing away from me.

Dang, my master plan has fallen to shambles. Maybe I’m not a Slytherin.

As I stare at my failed attempt at drawing, I mentally sigh. What now?

**Oh! Oh! My turn! My turn! Let me say something! So there won’t me no lull any mo’!**

My eye twitches on its own accord. _Never rhyme again._

**But-**

_NEVER. Unless it’s unintentional. Especially since control, lull, and mo’ don’t really rhyme… And mo’? Really?_

**Pleeeaaassseeee let me heeeeelllp?**

I’m going to regret this. I swear I will but, _…..fine._ Cue a mental sigh from me, a very _loud_ mental sigh.

**Yay!** Ini bounces a bit, tail twitching happily back and forth. I swear she’s more dog-like than cat-like sometimes. When she finally settles, her eyes twinkle with a happiness. **Tell Vali that her sweater is nice.** She says simply.

I resist the urge to blink incredulously. _What? I’m trying to be friends with her._ I look at her sweater, which in some realm that normal teenage girls reside, probably would look nice. To me, it just looks itchy as heck. I mentally shake my head. _Look Ini_  I try to explain. _That sounds like I’m trying to use a pick up line or something._

**Just do it!** Her whiskers twitch irritably, fur puffing up.

_It’s going to be weird and awkward…_ There’s a small whine in my tone now, or at least as much as a mental tone can be whiny. Can you be whiny to yourself or was that just complaining?

**NOW!**

I flinch. I hate it when she yells too much. Ini gets this shrilly, annoying cat drawl in her voice when she yells, kind of like when a cat whines. You know that long meow that cats use to wake you up in the morning or complain when they want food or something? Well, with a human-like voice, it’s not only annoying but also hair-raisingly painful. I feel a small thumping begin in my temples.

_Fine fine! Please! Just no more yelling. You’re giving me a headache._

Instantly, the puffed up purple cat smiled happily. **Yay! Thank you Hannah!** She then started bouncing around the rainbow room again, looking way too proud of herself.

Resisting the urge to mentally spray her with a fire extinguisher or something incredibly sticky, I look back at the situation at hand, sighing slightly at the turn of events.

I really don’t want to say it. Honestly, it will probably be incredibly stupid. Really. I didn’t know anything about fashion, and I’ll probably lose my chance at befriending someone with a decent brain on their head.

I mentally sigh one final time.

I look back at Valerie who’s eating and staring at her newly unwrapped sandwich with an almost glaring amount of concentration. I think she’s trying to look at anywhere but me.

Not that I blame her. At the moment, I want to bolt the other direction, maybe find some other table or camp outside somewhere because honestly this spot wasn’t worth it. The sun is blaring across my skin with a weird sort of heat that shouldn’t exist this time of year in Illinois and…I’m distracting myself and making excuses…

Okay, pull up your big girl pants, Hannah, and just talk to the girl. Making stupid excuse like the freaking sunlight is stupid. I’ve lived through Texas summer for God’s sake! Stupid excuses are stupid.

Before I could distract myself again, I take a deep breath and eye Valerie, smiling slightly (probably awkwardly) in her direction, “Uh, hey Valerie?”

The girl tenses again, stopping mid-bite into her sandwich. With a precise almost hilarious amount of stiffness, she places the sandwich back down on the brown paper bag, crosses her arms, and gives me yet another stink eye.

“What do you want, now?”

Correction. That sounded incredibly _awkward._ Yeah, it was a nice sweater, but that wasn’t the point. You just don’t tell a person in an awkward silence randomly that their sweater is nice. That’s not how it works.

But to my half-way utter surprise (Ini is giggling mercilessly in triumph), ‘Vali’ blinks, looks back down at her shirt, and tries to look up with a nonchalant expression. However, the smile in her eyes tells that my comment _actually worked_. “Huh? Oh this old thing?” She waves me off, but I can tell that my comment is making her slightly happy… for some reason.  Valerie smiles wistfully at her sweater. “This is just junk. Nothing special.” That last bit is quieter, as if she’s thinking of something else at the time.

Unfortunately, her kind demeanor evaporates almost instantly once her temper ignites. After a moment, her head shoots straight up and she glares, looking both defensive and a bit confused at the same time. “And what does that have to do with anything?!”

_See, told you it was stupid._

**No, you didn’t, you said it was weird and KEEP GOING. Use your logic, woman!**

 

I mentally arch an eyebrow at her. _You’re being real forceful today._

**Because you’re being silly. Now…Talk. To. Her.**

I mentally sigh again. Ini is going to be the death of me, I swear.

I shrug once more, because honestly, I don’t know how to really answer Valerie’s question. “Don’t know. Just because. I wanted to say your sweater looked nice and I did. Nothing wrong with that.” I finish lamely.

Valerie looks at me funny, like she’s trying to figure me out or find a double meaning behind my words. “Well, thanks… I guess.” She finally says.

“You’re welcome… I guess.” I parrot.

She smirks a bit before giving me another glare, though this one felt distinctively less hostile. “You know this doesn’t mean we’re friends right?”

Wait a minute. That’s the universal code for potential friends? But that would mean that lame sweater comment made her think that I could be a friend… what?!

Whatever. Logic lost this round already, so I’m just going with it, the Ini way.

I roll my eyes but smile brightly at her ‘we’re not friends, but I’m think about it’ comment. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She pauses again before sending me a small smirk. “You’re not so bad, Wahnsinn.”

“What? You thought I would be a nerd trying to cram anime down your throat every second of the day?” I say with a laugh.

“Do you really blame me?” She asks, almost laughing but mostly incredulous. “You come in talking about video games and later talk about Romeo and Juliet like you knew it like the back of your hand.”

I shrug. “I studied the play last year. That’s why.”

“So did we! Last February! But Lancer thought we needed a review because our scores were so bad last year.”

My mind back tracks on what she just says. “Wait, he was your teacher both years?”

“Yeah. He teaches a lot of the classes here.”

I groan, rolling my eyes before picking up my pencil to draw once more. “Great~”

“I would have thought you would be happy, considering you’re one of his favorites right now.” I look up to see her raised eyebrow, only to shrug again, putting the pencil down with a lack of inspiration.

“Usually, yeah, but not only does Mr. Lancer not really teach that well, from what I’ve seen so far, but he also has a favoritism streak.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

I shrug for probably the millionth time this conversation. “Maybe, for me, but it’s unfair for the other kids. Take Danny for instance. I swear that boy is an angel or something because if I had to put up with that crap, there would be heads flying.”

“Yeah, Dash and all the other A-listers are jerks.” She says this weirdly, like she’s uncomfortable with the subject. Did the- wait a minute.

“A-listers?” I ask thinking I heard her wrong because honesty, could this place get more high school cliché-y?

She raises an eyebrow at this. “Yeah, A-listers. You know, the most popular kids in school? Best clothes, best known, and generally best lives.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You actually call them the A-listers?!”

“Yeah, don’t you?”

“No, never. Not in a million years.” I deadpan. “Yeah, they are people more popular than you but that has never been the end all be all of high school life. People usually have their own cliques and stay with them. People don’t bother other people…wait no that’s a lie.” I correct myself. Ini growls as the image of one of my friends getting taunted by two bullies pops into my mind. “If you’re in an upper level class than no one bothers you, but if you’re a geek like me in a regular level, then you’re more likely to get attacked by jerks.”

“Huh, that’s not what Casper’s like at all.”

“I can see that just by spending a day here. How could people get away with this crap?”

She shrugs. “Don’t ask me. I thought all high schools were like this junk hole until you told me about your school.”

We chat a bit about the differences between out high schools. When we get to the A-Listers, Vali- err, _Valerie_ , sounds a bit uncomfortable, so I don’t press her on more details. However, from what I’ve seen, these so called ‘ _A-Listers_ ’ are just idiotic bullies using their ‘popular’ high school statuses to intimidate others.

I’m just itching to get those imbeciles back for their hierarchy.

**This will be fun, won’t it?**

I think Ini is talking about getting even with Dash and the others. She has always liked seeing bullies get their just deserts, especially when they’ve hurt our friends. But this time, it’s a bit different from the usual, messed up school issue.

Most of the time, there’s one or two things that hurt the school body, whether it be secretive drugs, fast acting bullies, or teacher favoritism via grade changing. Once their secret is out or they’re caught in the act, most people would agree that what that person (or group of people as the case may be) was wrong. However, here at Casper, basing on what Valerie has said so far, this type of favoritism is common, if not, _expected._ Athletes and pretty girls get ‘get out of jail free’ cards because they’re the royalty of the student body in their own thinly veiled interpretation of a hierarchy that could be smashed the instant enough people stand up to it. Every single transgression that these kids do is swept under the rug as the ‘normal high school experience.’

I hate that explanation. ‘Normal high school experience’ my ass. What is normal about a person wanting to kill themselves because they’re tormented every day at school? What is normal about anorexic girls who force themselves to eat less just because if they didn’t, they would lose the only ‘friends’ they have ever known? What is ‘normal’ about students who work twice as hard as anyone else in the classroom but get half the grade as someone just because their skin is a different color?

A personal experience drags itself from the depths of my younger mind with a vengeance. What is normal about a third grade counselor telling a little girl that it’s their fault that they’re bullied and that if the little girl was a little bit more normal, they would have friends?

It’s sickening to think about what’s some people’s opinion of what ‘normal’ is. Something being normal, doesn’t count as an explanation.

Ini shuffles awkwardly, feeling my rage, but not doing anything because she knows I need to vent. Mentally, I sigh and answer her question.

_The satisfaction in seeing the smug look on these jerks’ faces will be fun, but otherwise…_

I have to stop myself from physically pressing my lips. I have a feeling Valerie would not appreciate my disgruntled look. 

_Well, the fact I have to even do anything, much less do anything on the first day, is not. At all._

Ini thinks about this for a moment before pouting.

**You take the fun out of everything, you know that?**

I mentally shrug. _Someone has to._

Ini has another odd expression on her face, but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by obvious annoyance… and an irritated tail.

**Meany Logic!**

And then Ini proceeded to pout in the corner of my mind for the rest of lunch, her tail swishing irritably. She didn’t even pop her head up when I managed to get laughs out of Valerie. She’s just being stubborn, I know that, but I would have liked to see her reaction to Vali accidently snorting milk out her nose.  

Her loss… I guess.

_~InsanityismyForte~_

“See! She’s making friends with Valerie too. Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious?”

Danny lets out a frustrated sigh at Sam’s millionth accusation. She spent nearly the entire lunch period trying to convince him that Hannah is someone untrustworthy. The Goth labeled the girl as everything from a secret government spy to being a pawn sent by Vlad. Honestly, Danny is tired of it.

He stops poking at the day’s mush and gives his female best friend an annoyed look. “Look Sam, I don’t know what your problem with her is, but I don’t think Hannah is trouble. She may be an actual normal person for once.”

“Normal?” Tucker asks incredulously, finally joining the conversation that he had strategically stayed out of.  “Dude, she’s a gamer girl with a terminal lung disease that has a vendetta against Romeo and Juliet. I don’t think that counts as anything close to normal.”

“Okay, maybe not normal,” Danny concedes, thinking about Homeroom and English. “But I don’t think she’s out to get anyone.” He gives a pointed look towards Sam.

She bristles at his expression, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “Look, all I’m saying is that you need to be aware. We don’t know anything about her. For all we know, Hannah could be dangerous.” Sam sighs, but immediately glares at him sternly. “Just try to be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

“Danny…”

He groans, throwing his hands up surrender. “Fine! Fine! I’ll be careful. Just...” He bits his lip, putting his arms down. Danny, eyes his friends warily. “You guys are awesome, you know that right?”

Tucker raises an eyebrow at him. “As much as I appreciate that comment, I hear a ‘but’ coming along.”

“Yeah, about that.” Danny rubs the back of his neck nervously, trying to figure out how to word this without sounding like a horrible friend. “It’s just nice to know that there are some other people out there that actually want to be friends. Don’t get me wrong, I know there’s a chance that she could be some psychopathic killer or something weird like that, but…” He trails off, not knowing how to continue.

Fortunately, Danny has some of the best friends in the world that he swears sometimes could read his mind. Tucker, grins sympathetically. “We get it, Danny, you just want to be normal.”

The halfa shrugs. “Maybe not normal, but knowing that not everyone hates me, some part of me at least, would be nice.” He warily looks at Sam, who is eying him like she’s either one step away from kicking him with her boots or hugging him in a very un-Goth-like manner.

In the end, she looks away and starts playing with her salad, seeming to know that Danny isn’t going to relent on this issue. “Just be careful, okay?” She finally says. “We don’t want another Valerie incident.”

Tucker, raises an eyebrow at her. “What? You think Hannah’s going to go all trigger happy on Phantom?”

The techno geek flinches slightly at Sam’s glare. “You never know. For all we know, she could be telling Hannah that Phantom is evil incarnated with their little pow-wow over there.” She says, gesturing to the two girls. Danny sees that Hannah looks shocked and a bit disgusted at whatever they are discussing, while Valerie only looks amused and… satisfied?

Maybe being careful around Hannah would make sense….

Danny sighs and looks to his Goth friend. “Okay, Sam. I get your point. I’ll be careful around Hannah and make sure she doesn’t want to kill me. Good?” She blinks, as if she didn’t expect him to agree with her. However, that slight shock turns into a small smile, a smile that for some reason sent butterflies through his stomach.

“Good.” Sam replies, her voice forceful yet happy. Happy? Why is she happy that he agreed with her? Maybe it’s a girl thing, but whatever the reason, it makes him feel nice that he made her happy, sending more light flutters.

Unfortunately, the moment is ruined by none other than his other best friend. Tucker smirks evilly before commenting. “Lovebirds…”

**“WE’RE NOT LOVEBIRDS!”**

_~InsanityismyForte~_

“Do they do that often?” I ask Vali, who has an odd expression on her face at the duo’s interruption. Personally, it amuses me that they _both_ have the same reaction to whatever their red capped friend said. Judging by their red stained cheeks and the ‘lovebirds’ portion, it must have had something to do with them being a couple, or the lack of being one as the case may be.

“More than you know.” The girl grumbles. Vali sounds almost annoyed, but I don’t question her further. Instead, I absently think that the two would look cute together with their contrasting looks and such. Well, maybe. They could be horrible for each other for all I know. But hey, what do I know about romance?

“Huh…” I watch the duo resettle themselves in their seats, their faces flushed and embarrassed, before looking back at Vali. I give her serious look and lean slightly back in my seat, ready to return to our previous conversation. “Soooo,” I drawl. “Who’s the idiot who thought it was a good idea to call a restaurant the Nasty Burger? It’s like this place back home called Fuzzy’s Tacos, there are just some names that should not be allowed.”

She laughs at this and wipes the previous expression off her face, a smirk replacing it. Before I know it, she starts the tale of the forgotten lore of the once ‘Tasty Burger’ that, at least for me, explained the idiocy of human laziness.


	6. Extra: Mornings Suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning of the first day of school, and it's the start of a new routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This takes place the morning on the first day of school, before the events of chapter two).

My alarm clock blares in my ears with an annoying trill, waking me up from my blissful dream. I look at the time. 5:00 AM.

I groan and glare with extreme hatred at the stupid thing.

I freaking hate school. I hate life right now. I hate everything that moves just because it has to be awake like I do. Everything should just burn. Maybe then I can get some more _sleep._

I resist the urge to slam on the snooze and just fall asleep for another fifteen minutes, but alas, I have school and stuff to prepare for it. I groan and stretch my arms and legs, cringing slightly when my right leg cramps. I throw the blankets off me (though because my bed was already a despair, it’s hard to tell) and yawn like a cat, much to Insanity’s amusement.

Yep, I’m graceful in the mornings.

I jump off my bed and turn off my alarm, shivering slightly when my feet hit the dark hardwood floors and look at my new room. It’s bigger than the one in my last house that’s for sure, though anything could be bigger than that room.

My queen sized bed is in one corner of the room farthest from the door. Black and white stripped bed sheets dominate my bed, bits of rainbow peeking out from the edges of the blankets and from the pillows. My black nightstand has my alarm clock, a green office lamp (don’t ask), a mini totem pole that was once my dad’s (wards off bad dreams), and my emergency inhaler.

My left wall has two book shelves, one for games and electronics another one for actual books, with a desk in between them. An Apple desktop sits on the desk as well as a printer. In between my nightstand and the book shelf, there was a huge window (now with locks) with long black curtains that had blue edging on the bottom.

On my right wall, (which I love my dad, but he went way over the top) my dad had a custom walk-in closet built after he found out that my room didn’t have a closet when we found the house a couple weeks ago. (The house was perfect except for the lack-o closets). The corner of the square room looked almost cut off because of the closet, but the thing has been _way_ too useful so far to complain about, especially considering my last closet was so tiny that it was basically useless.

Hanging from the edge of the walls but not quite touching the ceiling in little net-like pouches are all my stuffed animals. Yes, I have a stuffed animal collection. I don’t give a crap about what anyone thinks. They’re adorable, and I love them. Everything from Build-a-bears from when I was as little as three to anime characters to random animals and mystical creatures are in these pouches.

Only a three or four toys are left out of pouches. The four animals are my bear I’ve  had since I was three named Bear-Bear, (my mom gave her to me as a little kid, so she’s kind of special), my original Webkinz (again, don’t ask), my favorite Pikachu doll, and an umbreon plushie that I named Luna. (Umbreon is my favorite Pokémon, and the little guy was also a gift from my mom the day I found out I was dying, so heck yeah it’s on the desk!). There’s no TV in my room, not that I mind. I rather go to the living room or the basement to watch television with my dad anyway.

My favorite part of my room, however, are the walls and ceiling. The walls are my favorite shade of blue, a not quite teal blue that looked almost mint colored. The tops of the walls had a black strip that ran across the entire upper wall. The ceiling was painted beautifully, at least in my opinion it’s beautiful. The best way to describe it would be like being in the middle of a cyclone. The edges of the ceiling had dark puffy clouds but as you neared the center of the ceiling, the clouds got smaller and brighter until they disappeared into the center of the ceiling, a small eye of the storm so to speak the small color as my walls. The black trim, makes the ceiling almost look like a portal to another dimension, or that’s what Ini thinks at least.

The room also has custom lights. Instead of regular lights, long thin pole-like lights, like the ones you find in stores, are on the edges of the ceiling. When it was completely dark, the inner part of my room had less light than the outer part, making the room have an almost unnatural glow.

I rub my eyes to get the sleep out of them, but can’t help but smile at my room. My dad went _way_ overboard on the entire thing. I think he feels guilty about making me leave Texas, so this was his I’m sorry present, or he just wanted me to have an awesome room for once in my life since the last place we lived had the tiniest rooms _ever_.

One or the other, I suppose. Maybe even both. Either way, I love my new room, and I’m glad for it.

I yawn again and blink blearily, heading to the door in the left corner of the room. I slightly stumble on the way there, but I eventually managed to get out the door in one piece. I step out into the small corridor and head to the bathroom next door to me.

Today is going to be my first day at Casper High… Yay. I’m _so_ just _buzzing_ with so much excitement that even my mint toothpaste seems to burn bright with glowing happiness of wonderfully obnoxious cheerfulness.

Or maybe that’s the drowsiness getting to me, making me hallucinate…

Or Ini. Ini likes messing with me sometimes, especially when I’m annoyed, so that could be the case too.

Either way, my ‘glowing happiness’ is ready to burn the faces of any poor soul that’s cheery enough to poke the bear that is my mentally at the moment.

At least, until I wake up more. Waking up sounds good.

After using the restroom, I wash my face with some special Aveeno facial wipes and bite back a curse when some soap gets in my eyes. I hate it when it does that! It feels like someone’s poking a needle in my eye!

**Now you’re cranky _and_ blind, but at least you’re awake.**

My eyes twitches but not from the pain. As I wash my stinging eyes, I mentally flip Ini off.

To my annoyance, she simply giggles (well, giggles as much as a mental image of a cat can do. It sounds a bit more like a purr than a giggle) and swishes her tail joyfully. My other eye twitches.

 **You might want to get that checked, Ms. Hannah.** I groan and head out the bathroom towards the door that separates the bedrooms from the dining room. Ini was right. I am more awake, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it… wait a minute.

 _Why are_ you _so happy?_ To my ever growing annoyance and confusion, she simply giggles… purrs again and retreats to her mental room. I send her a mental image of an implied arched eyebrow and head out the door to the dining room.

Our new house is a bit weird. While it has an open concept plan the location of certain parts of the house seem strange to me. For one thing, a door in the dining room lead to the bedrooms of all places, next my house seems to be built around the concept of a circle, or at least part of it does. To my right, an open archway leads to the living room (also the door to the basement, but mostly the living room). The living room then circles to the left where the front entrance is. Finally, it circles back to the kitchen where there’s an archway that leads back to the dining room.

It’s weird, but the house has character. Besides, the _basement_ is where it’s really at, but that’s a story for another day.

I head to the kitchen and start some coffee for my dad whenever he wakes up. After the coffee machines starts to whirl, I walk to the living room.

The house is quiet with only the pratting of my feet and the occasional clicks of the air-conditioning. The entire situation has an eerie sense of monotony. In the darkness of the morning, everything in the living room in encrusted with dark shadows, hiding everything, making everything look monstrous and-

Am unfortunately familiar of panic fills me. I stop and lean towards the wall, the arches edge digging into my back. I force myself to calm down from the ridiculousness of the situation. Nothing is wrong. Nothing will come and get you in the dark, Hannah. I’m fine. Your imagination is just getting to you.

A let out a shaky sigh but stay leaning on the wall, unable to open my eyes in fear of seeing… _those._

 **Hey, Hannah.** I hum in recognition, but I’m still trying to convince myself some dark demon dog is going to come and bite my leg and drag me God knows where. **Hannah. It’s okay. The shadows here won’t hurt you.**

 _I know! I know! I just..._ I clench my eyes and bite my lips. This is ridiculous. _There’s nothing there. I just can’t help it._ _The light’s near the basement door, right?_

**Yes...**

I blindly yet quickly shuffle to the basement door and turn on the light, stumbling into the switch. Even with my closed eyes, I can see the living room’s light destroy the damn stupid creatures that keep mocking me on the couch. I take another shaky breathe and hesitantly open my eyes towards the living room.

I smile shakily in relief. The damn demons are gone and now there’s only the couch, the TV, the side tables and chairs.

Thank God.

**You okay now?**

I nod my head as I shakily walk toward the couch where my machine laid. _Yes, I’m better. Maybe not okay, but better._ I feel Ini nod, and with a pang I realized I ruined her good mood.

I plop down on the couch, breathing deeply to stop the pain in my chest and in my head. So much hate in so little time. Speaking of hate…

I look at the breathing machine next to me and sigh once more, but I manage to give a light glare at the thing before starting the long process of using it. First, I make sure it’s plugged in, then I make the sure mask is there, and finally I make sure my medicine is in the filter. Once all these are in the positive, I put the mask over my face, pull it a bit to make sure it won’t fall off, and turn it on.

The breathing machine makes a vacuum type noise but a bit quieter. I breathe in with practiced pacing and lay back on the couch, eyes closed from the world. My lungs are already feeling a bit better. The main downside of using the breathing machine is the half an hour I have to sit idly. It’s boring as heck but necessary.

 _So, why_ were _you in a good mood Ini?_ I ask her, partly out of curiosity, partly guilt on ruining it with my stupid, stupid fear, and partly to pass the time while breathing. Yeah, I could play my DS but talking to Ini is more fun most of the time... Even if she does annoy the living daylights out of me.

Ini seems a bit reluctant to talk, a bit uncharacteristic of her. After a moment, she sighs and answers. **Well, I just so excited that we would be going to school.**

_Wwwwwhhhhhyyy?_

She pauses again. I feel her pace a bit, her tail flicking back and forth as a sign of discomfort. When she answers, her voice sounds guilty, similar to how a child sounds when they get caught stealing from the cookie jar before dinner.

**I wanted to see the ghosts. Phantom to be specific.** She pauses, eyes trailing down to the ground.  **I still do... actually.**

_…Of course you do._

**Are you mad?**

I arch an eyebrow at her. _Why would I be mad? You’re curious. What’s wrong with that?_

 **Curiosity killed the cat.**  She tries to counter.

I roll my eyes. _And satisfaction brought it back. I know that talk show. Don’t try to pull that on me._

I pause. When Ini doesn’t say anything else, I continue.

  _Look, as much as the idea of ghosts seems impossible to me, you’re curious to see what they’re like. I get that. How about this, if we see a ghost today, you get to say ‘I told you so’ and move on with our lives, deal?_

Ini giggles/purrs (purrgles?) at me. The swishing of her tails feels less irritated than before, a more of a joyous swish rather than an annoyed flicking.

Yes, there is a difference.

Once her purrgle ends, I feel her smile.

**Deal.**

And I smile back.

 


End file.
